The Extreme Avenger League
by ShadyReporter
Summary: This week on TEAL, another evil group rears its head, a lost character of the series makes an entrance, and Kenny's a flirt. How many more villains will the South Park kids have to face? Action/Adventure/Mystery/Romance/Comedy of the SP kids as superteens
1. Chapter 1:  The Bracelets

Hello SP fans! The premise of this story is a continuation of Coon and Friends, only a few years in the future. It came from a conversation I had with my sister about what would happen if the boys got REAL superpowers. We were also tossing around ideas about what the powers would be, and also what they would be for some kids who weren't in the Coon and Friends gang (cause face it girls, yall want to see more of Craig, or so I'm told). Chances are, our ideas will be overwritten by the SP canon at some point, but this is SP; retconning has no power of disbelief over the continuity.

This story will have some of my OC's eventually, but that's mainly so the poor bad guys don't get overwhelmed lol. They'll be needing some backup.

By the way, this is gonna have loads of action and danger if I have anything to say about it. Oh and probably the occasional romance; I am a girl after all, I can't escape it. The story also starts off with me doing my own parody of SP's tendency for vulgarity, but this is actually the lead into the plot.

So sit back and enjoy the first of what will probably be many chapters of The Extreme Avenger League!

By the way, all rights for South Park and its characters go to Trey Parker and Matt Stone. I'm not crazy enough to come up with this mess. . .

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: The Bracelets<strong>

_Journal Entry #1:_

_ This is f&%# gay. OK no, the fact that I actually typed f&%# is what's gay, the whole journal thing is simply stupid. Just when I thought there was no end to my parents' stupidity, they do THIS to me. Freakn' retarded . . ._

_ But thats not why I'm writing. Oh no, I'd rather gripe about that in person. But that WAS a catalyst for the reason I'm writing. Or I should say the reason Cartman is making me write. Something about how this would sell for millions of dollars and get its own movie or some garbage like that. But I suppose I should be grateful, because maybe laying it all out in words on paper will help me make sense of what the heck has happened to me . . ._

* * *

><p>I looked hard at the bracelet that was wrapped around my wrist like a handcuff. "You've got to be kidding me."<p>

My mother shook her head. "No, sorry sweetie, but the other parents and I have all agreed. We're simply tired of your foul language around the house!"

"This is f%& ridiculous!" I yelled, then slapped my hand over my mouth. Where I had meant to start swearing like a sailor, instead only beeps came flying off my tongue.

"There, see?" she said. "Better already!"

"This is a direct infringement on my constitutional rights!"

"Oh don't be such a drama queen, Stan," my dad finally spoke. "Its . . . probably not that bad . . ."

"YOU put this d&%# thing on then!" I screamed at him. He simply scratched his head and avoided eye contact by turning to the toaster that had suddenly spazzed and spat some toast onto the table. Somehow, I doubt he was all that into this thing either, but had probably agreed just to keep Mom off his back.

I gave the bracelet a hard yank, but there was nothing for it. The thing was metallic and somehow completely fused around my wrist. I'd woken up with the blasted thing on, and had quickly discovered its extremely annoying side effect.

I paused. "Wait, you said you and the other parents . . ."

"Yes Stanley, the other boys are getting one too! Isn't that great?"

As if on cue, my cell phone rang.

"Ten bucks says this is Kyle, about to tell me how NOT great this is," I growled, then pulled up the phone. It flicked on before I had gotten it completely in my grip, which was a little weird.

"_OMG Stan dude you would not BELIEVE what my mom has done to me!_" a shrill voice cried angerly from the phone.

"Yup," I sighed, holding the phone away from my ear. I stormed out of the kitchen, deciding to skip breakfast, and just headed upstairs while still holding the phone away from my ear. I could easily make out Kyle's voice on the other end still exploding in a fit of rage; judging from the near constant beeping I was hearing, he'd woken up to the same unhappy realization I had.

"Kyle, shut up!" I said finally. "That beeping is f&% annoying!"

There was a pause on the other end. "Oh no, you've got one too," I heard him groan.

"Yeah, and I suspect so does Cartman and Kenny," I replied. "Mom was telling me that this new electronic bracelet is all the rage in families these days." I threw my backpack on my bed to vent some frustration.

"Electronic, you say?" Kyle said, and I couldn't resist a smile. I could just hear his brain start whirring over the possibilities of somehow rewiring the thing.

"Dude I need to grab my stuff, I'll meet you over at the bus stop OK?" I said. If Kyle was thinking, I'd have a better chance of being a part of his thought process in person.

* * *

><p>"This. Is. WEAK!"<p>

"Good morning to you too, Cartman," I sighed as I got out of my blue '10 Camaro. I'd pulled up to the bus stop which was where we usually met up for rides to school from whoever was driving that week. Cartman and Kenny were already there, both looking livid. Cartman had his arms folded around his wide chest. The years had lost some of his baby fat but not all, and he'd bulked out some for football. The result was the largest linebacker of any high school in Colorado; maybe not the tallest, but definitely largest overall. That and his reputation for having no problems whatsoever bulldozing over anyone in his way was one of the big reasons our football team was doing so well.

I was the other.

Kenny on the other hand, couldn't have been more opposite. He slouched next to Cartman with his hands in his orange parka pockets. He was extremely thin and lanky, even through that heavy coat, and looked like he might blow away in the wind. His hood was, as usual, pulled tightly around his face, only revealing his eyes. Kyle once said he suspected that was how Kenny shut out the unfairness of the world around him, and could therefore still manage to be a rather cheerful person despite the hardships of his life. And so, no matter how old he got, he always had an orange parka, with the hood shut up like a clam shell.

He wasn't cheerful at the moment though, and neither was Cartman. "You know who's fault this is?" Cartman piped up again. He waved a wrist and I could see the infernal device attached to it. "Ah bet this is that f*% Jew's mother's fault! That b*%^#!"

Without warning, he swung his arms violently and both Kenny and I had to take a step back. "AUGH AH HATE THIS!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. I swear he grew fangs and gnashed his teeth, he was so furious.

"Finally, something fata$# and I can agree about," I heard an annoyed tone of voice behind me say. I looked around to see a familiar, redheaded boy striding up to the bus stop and fiddling with a lime green ushanka in his hands. The moment Kyle had gotten permission to have a say in his own hairstyle he'd buzzed his jewfro short to a much more manageable length. Despite this, he still wore his trademark hat, just like his friends often wore their own. Heaven knows I never left home without my blue cap, which was currently slammed over my own black hair.

"F&%^ off Jew, I didn't ask ya for yer opinion," Cartman snapped.

My super best friend flashed him a familiar gesture. At least that was something we could still do.

"Kyle, you seemed to be getting an idea over the phone," I said. "Have you-"

"-Tried anything yet?" he said, finishing my sentence. Kyle held up his wrist and examined his own handcuff. "I'd love to try to tinker with it," he said, and by the irritated tone in his voice I could feel my hopes drop, "But the thing is sealed up tight. I don't even get how they got them on our wrists; it looks like one solid loop of metal to me."

[Creepy], Kenny's muffled voice said.

"Ah wonder if anyone else at school has tah deal with this garbage," Cartman muttered.

* * *

><p>The moment they stepped into school, Craig was in their face. The tall boy gave them the usual gesture, only he seemed unusually not apathetic about it.<p>

"I see you got one too," I remarked, glancing at the garnished wrist attached to his finger.

"Shut up," he growled, then glared at Kyle. "This is-"

"-My fault? How?" Kyle exclaimed.

"There, see? Ah told ya so!" Cartman said.

Craig scowled at Kyle's interruption. "My mom had a long talk with your mom, Brofloski," he said. "And now look." He waved his hand with the bracelet in a repeat of his earlier sign.

"Hey, I-I got one too!" I heard a cheerful voice behind us pipe up.

I glanced behind myself to frown at Butters. The small boy had come jogging up and sure enough, he had on a bracelet too. "My mom said it was an early-an early birthday present! Isn' that nice of her?"

"Go away Butters, before Ah kill ya with mah bare hands," Cartman growled. He was in a worse mood than usual apparently. I wondered how long it would take till he and Kyle were at each others' throats again.

"How are you happy to have this?" Kyle asked in surprise.

"W-well, its a present, isn' it?" Butters said, admiring his bracelet. "Its always nice to get presents!"

"You are all pathetic," Craig muttered, then marched off.

[Takes one to know one!] Kenny called after, but his muffled reply met only with another finger.

* * *

><p>School was worse than usual. Some of the student body was moping around either depressed or thoroughly ticked off, while the rest of them strode around like kings, showing off their bare wrists and firing vulgar insults at those who couldn't retaliate in kind. It didn't take long for fights to begin breaking out randomly. Kyle and Cartman themselves got in at least four scraps apiece before lunch, and only two of them were with each other. The school faculty had their hands full trying to maintain order. Seriously, and parents thought this was a good idea?<p>

I sat in the lunchroom, using a fork to poke around my school lunch ravioli and scowling up at a sputtering light right above my head. Kyle sat on one side of me, chewing through a sandwich and looking lost in thought. Kenny sat on my other side, eying my uneaten food and tugging his bracelet (a habit he'd already formed). Cartman sat on his other side, shoveling his food in like his life depended on it. While it was hard to call him obese anymore, he was still large enough to suggest his mother spent half her paychecks to keep him supplied with cheezy poofs and other snacks. On the other side of the table sat Craig, Clyde, Token, and Tweek. They all ate looking rather sullen, except Tweek who was gripping his shirt and darting his eyes around the room.

"Oh *&^#%," he moaned, then yelped when his own bracelet beeped him. "AUGH! I can't take this! Too much pressure, man! Too much pressure!"

I sighed. Poor Tweak was probably gonna have a heart attack for sure this time.

"Tweak, you gotta learn to say something else, if the beeping startles you that much." Token said.

"I can't help it!" he cried, pulling his wild blonde hair. "I just say things, ya know? They just come out! Then the beep comes . . . it comes every single time! Oh *&%^% - GAAAH!" He gave a violent jerk that made him fall right off the lunchtable bench.

I could see annoyance starting to build in the faces of everyone else at the table. They were having a hard enough time dealing with this, the last thing they needed was for Tweek to be shrieking and beeping every five seconds. I opened my mouth to try to tell Tweek that maybe he should just learn sign language, when I heard a voice behind me.

"Hey Stan? Can I talk to you for a moment?"

I froze, my heart jumping somewhere up in my mouth. The rest of the gang gave me an apologetic look, expect for Cartman, who just snorted. "You heard the b*%&," he said, ignoring his own beep. "Do what the ball-and-chain commands."

"Nice to see you talking civilly for once, Cartman," Wendy said sarcastically as I turned to face her. "Its a vast improvement to your usual vocabulary."

Cartman stiffened, his nose wrinkling up. "Learn tah use words yourself, wench; the amount of perfume you load on tah impress your dumb jock reeks."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "She's not wearing that much; I barely notice it."

"That's 'cause Jews have no sense of smell, or they could tell they stink."

"SHUT UP, FATA#%!"

Folding her arms, Wendy scowled at Cartman. "Leave it to Fatso here to be sensitive to anything that can help him track food down and nothing else. I bet you he can tell what's cooking in the cafeteria before you even get on campus. Too bad that bracelet can't also keep your appetite under control."

"AY!" Cartman said, rounding on her also. "Ah bet ya love this, don't ya? Ya little hippie freak! Well, don't get used tah it, cause nothing, and Ah mean _nothing_, whips Eric Cartman! Ah'll be back tah mah usual slandering self soon, Ah can promise ya that! There is gonna be H#*% tah pay! Oh g#d&#^^%, f&#^* breast cancer awareness bracelet. . ."

Somewhere in the background, I heard Butters calling my name, but I ignored it; too focused on Wendy.

Wendy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, let me know how that turns out," she said to Cartman, then looked at me. Her eyes were still the same captivating violet even when they were annoyed. Her black hair hadn't changed much over the years in style, but she herself had turned into a bombshell. Her skin was smooth, body curvy, and hair shining. She didn't quite advertize her figure like her friend Bebe did by wearing clothes that covered less than they revealed, because she didn't need to. As much as I hated to admit it to the guys, she had me wrapped around her finger no matter what she was wearing. Although sometimes I did fantasize-

"Stan!" her sharp voice rang out.

Kyle elbowed me hard in the ribs. "Dude!"

"Wha? Oh, sorry," I said, shaking myself out of my daze. G&%# d*%# it, after all these years, I'd like to talk to her just once without my head going off for lunch.

Wendy reached over and grabbed my hand. I felt my stomach start flipping around like a fish out of water, until I noticed that it was the hand with the bracelet. I could hear Butters was shrieking about something now, maybe getting beat up again. Was hard to concentrate on anything when Wendy had my hand.

"Yup, just as I thought, you too," she muttered, pulling my hand so she could inspect my arm. "And I've just heard that Kyle and Cartman have the same problem." She flashed her own wrist. "Bebe and I got them also. She's been crying in the bathroom all day. Something about how she has nothing to go with it or some other nonsense."

"You girls got one too?" Kyle said in surprise.

Wendy growled. "Been trying to figure it out all day, but the thing is secure like Fort Knox."

A commotion was growing with Butter's high voice topping them all. Why couldn't he just shut up?

"Where did these things even come from?" I asked, trying to ignore whatever scene Butters was causing. If anyone knew about these strange devices, it would be Wendy.

She looked thoughtfully at her wrist. "From what I can find online, some company started toting them about three months ago," she said. "Its motto is that those who are clean or some garbage can reach their full potential, blah blah blah."

Cartman raised an eye. "So a company is behind this?" he said, an evil smile creeping across his face.

I sighed, wondering just how long it would take Cartman to ruin this one. The last company he'd tangled with had been a year and a half ago, and they'd filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy within a month after he'd gotten involved in their stocks. All because they'd canceled one of his favorite chip flavors. The monster.

"Sorry Cartman, but this company is strangely secretive," Wendy said. "They haven't even gone public with stocks. Even you might find ruining them-"

"Pretty d*&% difficult, yeah," Kyle finished.

"G&% d&%# it Kyle, cut that out!" I said, flinching at the beeps from my mouth. "What is with you today?"

He just blinked while Cartman shrugged. "Difficult maybe. Impossible, no. They gotta learn tah deal with mah athoritah!"

Kenny rolled his eyes.

That's when the lunchroom exploded.


	2. Chapter 2:  Backfire

A big shoutout to Phantom Nini and Kyla K for being my first reviewers! Sorry about the cliffhanger; lucky for you though I've got a backlog of chapters here, so I'll be posting frequently until I catch up on them. So yeah, we're gonna breeze though the story setup rather fast, but where's the problem in that?

Feel free to leave a review and let me know what you think of the story. I'll even accept constructive criticism; I'm an aspiring writer so advice helps (you know, so long as its not on fire, lol). And while its rather different to write/publish a story one chapter at a time Ala Charles Dickens, no one said I can't learn anything along the way. :P

Anyways, on to Chapter Two! The gang don't even know anything's going on and already they have a villain up in their grill. I just couldn't resist this superpower; it just seemed so amusingly ironic.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Backfire<strong>

_I'm still not sure how those ridiculous bracelets work. But one thing's for sure, there's way more to them than meets the eye. I don't know if its electronic, or radioactive, or even psychic . . . but I doubt very much they're anything resembling normal. And I think they are where it started. It makes me wonder; how many more people are going to realize their "potential"?_

* * *

><p>I fell on the floor, the remains of my lunch splattering the ground around me. I heard Wendy give a yelp as she fell on her back. Next to me sprawled Kyle and Kenny, both looking as stunned as I felt, Kyle clutching a charred part of his orange jacket sleeve. Cartman was already getting back on his feet, eyes missing his friends and instead seeking the source of the explosion. I myself felt my shoulder was rather hot, and absentmindedly swatted at the cinders that were scorching my Letterman's jacket.<p>

Wendy reached over and grabbed my hand, eyes wide and aimed behind my back. "STAN!" she yelled.

I wasn't considered the school's top jock for no reason. I didn't even look behind me to see what had frightened her; instead, I leaped forwards, throwing my arms around her protectively, and used my momentum to roll us under the next table, which was now vacant of occupants.

I felt a wave of heat around me as I moved, but I had been fast enough to get myself and Wendy out of the way. I heard Kenny give a yelp though, and once I was under the table I finally spun around to face whatever threat was causing so much havoc.

I nearly choked.

Standing not five feet from me, surrounded by the burning remains of tables and garbage cans and surveying the scurrying student body, was a _very_ big teenager with short-cropped blonde hair. He wore a white t-shirt that had had the sleeves ripped off, and a tattered jean vest over it. Both showed off his bulging chest better than he could have had he been bare. He flexed thick arms and punched one black gloved fist into the other. His piercing eyes moved from the room and straight into mine, and a sneer spread across his face.

"Hello Stanley Marsh," he snarled. "Long time no see."

"T . . . Trent Boyett, " I replied somehow. My mouth felt so dry it was hard to believe I could get any sound out. And would that d*&# light stop flickering already?

Behind the monstrous Trent, I could see Kyle and Cartman staring with identical looks of shocked horror. Kyle was still clutching his arm. To the side of them, Craig and the other boys were also stumbling to their feet, having also been knocked flying by the explosion that had taken out our table. Tweek took one shaky look at Trent and passed out on the spot. Probably better for him anyways.

"Bet yer probably wonderin' what brings me here to yer school," Trent said, as if having a casual conversation.

I felt Wendy's grip on my hand tighten, and gripped it back. "Yeah," I replied, "Seeing as you're supposed to be still in juvie hall. You got what, eight years? Ten?"

"FIFTEEN!" Trent screamed, and to my astonishment, flames appeared on his hands. I pushed Wendy further back, and leaped sideways myself. Trent threw the fire like they were hand grenades, and the table we'd been hiding under burst into flames.

What? _What?_

"Sentenced to _fifteen years_ in first Juvenile Hall, then actual factual _jail!_" Trent continued to scream, throwing fire at me as I scrambled behind another table, flipping it up for protection. "All because of _you!_ You and yer miserable _despicable friends!_"

At that point I noticed the charred husk at his feet.

"OMG!" I cried. "He killed Kenny!"

"You _b*%&^#%!_" Kyle shrieked. Immediately a series of other bleeps began to ring from him as he realized the loss of one of his usual exclamations.

Wait, usual? It was usual for Kyle to yell that? Why? And why was I getting deja-vu?

Kyle's yells caught Trent's attention too. He spun to face Kyle, his eyes growing wide. "What did ya just say?" he said, voice dangerous.

"I can't very well _say_ it now, can I?" Kyle said, a slight tone of irritation in his otherwise panicked voice.

Trent's eyes darted from Kyle's face to his wrist. What? How did he know . . .

He then took two strides of his long legs and before I could blink, had Kyle by the throat and slammed against a soda vending machine. "Where did you get that?" he said, pointing to Kyle's wrist.

Kyle gasped, clutching the large hand on his throat. "Huh?"

Cartman used this moment to circle around away from Kyle and instead over behind my makeshift shelter of a table. "Its really him," he gasped. "Why is he here? How did he get out?"

I glared at him. "Thanks for helping Kyle," I said sarcastically. "And how should I know? He had the book thrown at him when he tried to escape by holding his psychiatrist hostage when we were in middle school."

I scanned the room real fast for anything I could use against Trent. I could see Wendy still behind her table, eyes darting from me to Trent, looking like she was also analyzing. Most everyone had run out of the charred cafeteria, and I could see that in the initial chaos Trent had managed to set fire to several other tables and garbage cans around the room. A few students still stayed around, also having taken shelter behind tables. Jimmy was sitting on a bench next to his friend Timmy's wheelchair, neither showing much inclination to run (not like Jimmy could run that easily anyways with his crutches) and looking more curious than worried. Craig and his group were peering out from around a table themselves, and I could see a few girls behind one further back in the room. Tweek still lay where he'd fallen on the floor. At the door, an unconscious and somewhat burned Butters was also slumped, sending waves of guilt rippling through me. He'd been just outside the lunchroom, trying to warn me, and probably trying to keep Trent back. Both attempts had failed.

Next to me, Cartman was drumming his fingers on the table, eying Trent and Kyle. I could just sense the war going on in his head: show Trent that nowadays he didn't take crap from anyone . . . or book it for the exit as fast as he could. His ego wrestled with his sense of self preservation, and there didn't appear to be much room for concern for his fellow man. Usual Cartman. If anyone was going to help Kyle, it was going to be me. Too bad I had no idea how I was going to do that.

"Dude, what are you talking about?" Kyle was gasping.

"Never mind," Trent said. "You won't have time to figure it out anyways. You're next." His free hand turned upwards with a fireball growing in his palm. Kyle's eyes widened and he struggled against Trent's iron grip, which was also starting to catch fire.

It occurred to me that this time Trent wasn't going for the usual bully threats. Somehow, somewhere, he'd lost his mercy and had instead gotten some bizarre ability to generate fire. He'd already used it to kill Kenny . . .

And now he was going to kill Kyle. My super best friend.

_No._

"NO!" I yelled, throwing up my hand.

I'm not sure what I expected to have happen. Maybe somehow Trent would grow a conscience and let go of my best friend, or at least turn and face me first. I was not however expecting a flash of blue light and the vending machine that Kyle was being held up against to start violently shaking.

Kyle let out a yelp as a panel whipped out and knocked him to the side. "What the-HEY OW!" Trent cried out as sodas began flying out from the machine and pelting him like missiles. He threw up his flaming hands to defend himself, but the moment the cans came in contact with the fire, they grew red-hot and exploded, drenching him in sticky pop. With a fizz, the fire on his hands went out.

For a moment it was completely quiet in the cafeteria. Trent stood there with mouth agape, dripping in six flavors of soda and a lemonade. On the other side of him, Kyle looked from Trent to the vending machine and back again with a dazed and confused expression, his hand on his neck. Somewhere off to the side, I heard Token give a low whistle.

"What was that?" I heard Wendy whisper behind me.

I opened my mouth to reply, but Cartman caught my eye. Instead of looking at the vending machine or Trent or even Kyle, he was looking right at me. The expression on his face was unreadable, which was worrying. "What indeed . . ." he muttered.

Trent glanced around him. From his viewpoint, he was probably starting to realize that maybe taking on his enemies in home territory was a bad idea. Craig and the others were coming out from behind their table, and didn't look happy with having their lunch time interrupted. Craig was nearly as athletic as I was, and Clyde wasn't too shabby of a football linebacker either. Token was tall and lean, being the head basketball champ in school. Cartman, sensing a turn of the tide, also pulled himself up to his own full height; while Trent was a big guy, he still had nothing on Cartman's girth. Even Wendy was folding her arms and sending the full fury of her glare at him. I got up myself, fists balling.

"Get the f*%# away from Kyle," I growled. "We're not the kids we used to be. And we're not going to put up with your s&%$ anymore." Man that was annoying.

Trent's eyes met mine, and immediately I could see the fire begin to rage again. However, though his fists smoked, they seemed to have trouble catching in the damp.

He snarled, and pointed a finger at me. "This ain't over, Marsh," he said. "I'ma gonna be back, ya hear?"

With that, he spun on his heel and marched towards the door. He made a move to give Butters a parting kick. In a flash, Tweek was suddenly back on his feet, and I realized that maybe he hadn't been as out of it as I'd thought. Before the foot even connected, Tweek's hands hit Trent from behind and sent him sprawling out the doors. And because his foot was already up, this resulted in a loud crash as Trent fell head over heels out of sight.

Tweek gave a low moan as the doors swung shut. "Oh what have I done," he said, holding his head in his hands. " Oh sweet %$^#-GAH!"

Clyde walked over and slapped him on the back, causing him to jump a foot in the air. "Nothing you should regret doing, dude," Clyde said with a grin. "That guy was just asking for a bouncing, you know?" A murmur of assent passed among Token, Craig, and the two crippled boys sitting at the nearby table.

I let Craig's gang see to Butters at the door. As guilty as I was feeling about him, I had others to check. One touch on Kenny's body revealed that there was nothing more to be done there. Wendy knelt next to me and gripped my arm, whether in sympathy or in the need of support herself . . . who knows. I could sense Cartman standing behind me, boring holes in the back of my skull for some reason. I didn't care. I felt hollow; I knew I should be crying or raging or _some_thing, but it just wouldn't come. Maybe I was just in shock at seeing a friend die so horribly. And it had nearly been two.

I looked up from Kenny to glance over at Kyle. He was sitting on the floor still staring rather vacantly, the vending machine next to him now silent. His face was extremely pale, and he was still gripping his neck. It took a moment for him to make eye contact.

"I . . . I'm gonna get grounded fer sure . . ." he gasped, his voice sounding oddly high and different. Then he fell over.

"KYLE!"

The fluorescent light above me finally sputtered and died.


	3. Chapter 3:  What's Going On?

OK, so some have noticed that I have an evil tendency for cliffhangers . . . uh, whoops. Don't worry though, I'll keep throwing chapters around; I know I hate to be left hanging also, lol. This chapter's ending isn't quite as steep a cliffhanger also. Well maybe it is. Depends on your point of view I guess.

Now as for the story, its time to shake things up a bit! And by shake, I mean in viewpoint. Not too much action in this chapter, but lots of amusing conversation. At least what I'll hope is amusing. I try to make my exposition entertaining.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: What's Going On?<strong>

_Dear Diary,_

_ F*%# Cartman; why am I doing this again? Oh right, he was driving me crazy. That fat b&%^# should do his own journal if he wants a movie._

_ But I suppose this could help relieve some stress. After all, I've been going nuts over the last few days, Fata$# not withstanding._

_ &%^#! $^&#^%ING*#^$^#^%$^&#$^&#%%$!_

_ G#& I hate this._

_ But as much as this bothers me, what bothered me even more was those first few hours of not knowing why. Not knowing why I could tell what people were about to say before they even finished, or reaching for a pencil that I could have sworn was further away just a second ago. When Stan got up in my grill during lunch, right before that whole fiasco with Trent Boyett, I realized that I wasn't just anticipating others' sentences. I actually KNEW what they would say. And then things got fuzzy . . ._

* * *

><p>*<em>I . . . I'm gonna get grounded fer sure . . .<em>*

What? Butters? Where was he?

*_I sure hope St-Stan and the o-others got out 'n time. M-maybe they're OK?_*

I couldn't see anything in the pitch blackness. So why was I hearing Butters? Did someone turn the lunchroom lights off? What had happened? Stan and the others got out in time for what?

I tried to focus on Butter's voice, seeing if I could make my way over there, but I couldn't move anything. What was going on?

Butters was still talking but I could no longer make out what he was saying. His voice was getting farther and farther away. Other voices started mingling in and out of the conversation, none really standing out. And I still couldn't move. What the h*$^?

*But they're gonna be OK, right?*

Ah Stan. Finally a voice I can make out. "Voice" was rather a poor word for it though. It was almost more like . . . feelings. Impressions. I was getting worry and confusion and frustration and all manner of these feel-pressions. And the more I focused, the more I felt other feel-pressions.

Anger. Annoyance, panic, contemplation, greed, arrogance . . . wherever Stan was, Fata$# was with him.

Worry, possessiveness, dominance, intelligence, a sudden urge to give Stan a big comforting smack on the . . . OK not finishing that thought. Wendy was here too, apparently.

Apathy. Lots and lots of apathy. Mixed with boredom. Deeply buried concern maybe, it was hard to look through those antagonistic walls. Craig?

Some more concern. Football. Annoyance of not being able to finish lunch. Football. Confusion up the wazoo, and an interest in a particularly hot nurse. Nurse? Clyde . . . maybe?

More confusion, some more concern, mingled with curiosity. A growing annoyance with a certain fatso in the room. Oh, and wondering how this might affect the basketball tryouts. Ah, Token then.

Panic. No need to look further; we have Tweek in the room. Wow, how did I not notice all those questions flying around? Was he always like this?

Worry. Extreme worry. Smothering, drowning worry . . . who invited my parents in here?

Wait . . .

There had been panic. Fire. Fear, pain . . . death . . . _Kenny_!

"YOU B^$%$#S!" I cried.

I opened my eyes to find a room full of shocked faces. Stan sat next to the right side of my bed on one side, wringing his hat in his hands. Wendy was right behind him, and Cartman next to her. The other boys I had identified were milling around the room, and somewhat to my left. My parents were next to my bed on the left too, and my mother was the only one to not freeze in place with my outburst.

"Oh _Kyle!_" she shrieked, and immediately leaned in to smother me with hugs and kisses. "Oh my poor Bubby, are you all right?"

"Mmff, sflffpph!" What I had tried to say was "Mom, stop!" but who can get that out when breathing itself was nearly impossible?

"Sheila, you're smothering the poor boy . . . literally," my father said. Thank you Dad.

She leaned back enough to allow me to draw air. As I did so, I was aware of a burning pain in my throat. "Ow!" I cried, hand flying up. I could feel bandages wrapped around my neck. Upon inspection, I could see some around my left arm also. "What?"

"Trent," Stan said. He seemed tired. "Sorry dude; he got ahold of you."

Oh right. Trent. Mr. I'm-On-Fire-Quite-Literally.

"How . . ." I muttered. "How did he _do_ that?"

I saw glances being exchanged around the room, and it was the weirdest feeling . . . I knew no one was entirely sure. I could tell some had theories, some had suspicious, and others didn't seem to have any ideas whatsoever. Leading the pack was Cartman. For some reason. Something about a vending machine . . . and Stan.

Stan? Vending machine? Wait, how did I get that?

Something else also came to mind. _I'm gonna get grounded fer sure . . ._

"Where's Butters?" I asked.

Eyes moved towards my left. I looked around my parents to see another bed in the hospital same room. Butters lay on it, with his parents on either side of him. A few of the other kids – Clyde, Token, Tweek – were shuffling awkwardly nearby. Craig was leaning against the door frame and looking generally unconcerned and bored.

Butters didn't look in good shape. Bruises were mushrooming over nearly ever bit of exposed skin, which wasn't much. He was bandaged up heavily, probably due to burns. His eyes were closed; he was still unconscious.

But how was that possible? I thought I'd heard him talk before.

"Is he going to be OK?" I asked. Mrs. Stotch whimpered in response.

"Oh the doctor says he'll be fine," Mr. Stotch said, waving off his wife's worry. "Suffered some burns, cuts and bruises, but nothing very serious or long lasting."

"We suspect Trent was a little more eager to find those he had a bigger beef with," Token said. He folded his arms and glared in our direction.

I gulped. Four years ago we'd all finally come clean about what had happened that day in preschool, and then that other day five years later. Well OK fine, _some_ of us had come clean. My own conscious had finally caught up to me. And to Stan, after I pestered him about it for a month. So to Cartman and Kenny's horror, we'd gone and confessed everything to the police, in an attempt to make it right.

But Trent was beyond saving. He'd gone so mad with the idea of revenge, he wasn't even going to settle for a simple release. He'd attacked the psychiatrist who'd gone in to evaluate him and had held him hostage, heaven knows why. It was a huge crisis that ended up in a police raid of juvenile hall, a humiliated major (cause lets face it, no politician likes having to have their own law enforcement raid their own building, it just looks bad), and the whole town coming to the general consensus that Trent Boyett was just a bad egg and would have probably ended up in JH anyways. So he and the key were thrown away again, and our own guilt had been largely overlooked in the fiasco. Some days I just didn't get this d&$ town.

I heard a very loud cough to my right and felt my eyes narrow. "Did you have something to lie about to help add to the conversation, Fata$#?" I said.

"Oh me?" Cartman said. "Why Kahl, what would give ya the idea that Ah'd lie?"

"Because you're a fat, greedy, attention whore who'd make up anything to say so people will revolve their lives around you. And you've done it before. Many times. That's why."

Cartman put on a wounded face. If only. "Ever consider the fact that I might actually have something tah contribute that may interest even your Jewish ears?"

"Cut the act and spit it out, Fata$#."

"AY! Ah'm not fat, Ah'm -"

"Big boned, yes yes, whatever!" I said. I was getting really tired of hearing him say that.

Cartman's eyes narrowed to match mine, and we exchanged glares. Just when I thought he was going to be even more difficult somehow, he broke eye contact and walked around the bed to face my parents. "Begging yah pardon, Mr. and Mrs. Brofloski," he began in his most oily voice, "But would yah mind giving us a moment alone here with poor Kahl?" He glanced over at the other two adults. "You too, if may be so bold to ask, Mr. and Mrs. Stotch."

The four parents looked surprised. "I'm not so sure," my mother said hesitantly. "My Bubby may need me, and I'd hate to leave him all alone . . ."

"Mom, I DO have my friends with me," I sighed.

My father put a hand on her shoulder. "And we do need to pick up Ike from hockey practice," he said. "Things were such a rush, we haven't even told him about Kyle's hospitalization yet."

"Oh dear!" my mother cried. "The poor thing! He'll be so distraught. Let's go Gerald, he's going to need his mummy." She leaned over me and gave me a big wet kiss on the cheek. "Be good, Bubby! Mummy's going out for a quick errand; we'll be back later tonight, all right?"

Behind my mother I could see several of the guys stifling laughs. Cartman grinned and mimicked saying "Bubby" with a sappy expression on his face. I didn't think this was fair; his mother doted on him worse. I gave my mother a goodbye hug and signaled to Cartman that he was dead later, by drawing a line with my finger near my neck.

My parents left, followed by the Stotches. They didn't seem at all eager to leave, but Cartman fed them a few pacifying lines and they finally headed off with the goal of treating themselves to dinner while they were out.

As soon as the door closed, it seemed like everyone in the room rounded on Cartman. "All right," I said. "Talk."

Cartman smiled one of his many smiles that made me want to punch his smug teeth right out. "Gentlemen," he began, putting his hands behind his back. "And ladies," he added, nodding to a glaring Wendy. "We are standing on the threshold of-"

"Get to the point," Craig said behind him.

Cartman shot a withering look which was returned with a finger gesture. "AY! Don't ya flip me off, ya piece of s&-"

"CARTMAN!" we all yelled.

"Augh, all right! G&$ d^%$^ it!" He took a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. "Ah'll start by summarizing what happened earlier today, since some of us," he paused to look down at me, "decided to skip out on some details."

"F&$ off, Cartman."

He smirked, but went on. "Today started abnormally bad, what with all of us receiving some rather unwanted 'presents' from our parents." He waved his wrist dramatically, showing off the metal band that was tightly gripping his wrist. That was amusing; it was dangling loose on mine, but then again I wasn't the one who was a human example of a metric ton.

"These bands essentially act like real life parental control, or some s&%# like that," he said. "So we all go to school, fight over who has them and who doesn't, blah blah blah. Fast forwards to lunchtime."

He began to pace back and forth across the floor, from the foot of my bed to the foot of Butters' and back again. "During lunch, while we are all busy minding our innocent business, enter Trent Boyett, convicted felon. For some reason, he's got some problem with us! Ah mean come on, what did we ever do to deserve such treatment? Ah mean, Kahl Ah can understand, him being a backstabbin' Jewrat-"

"G&%# D&#^% IT CARTMAN!" I yelled.

"F%&#ING GINGER JEW!" he shot back.

"SHUT UP!" Stan yelled. "G$!"

Butters gave a small moan and we all fell silent a moment. But he just turned his head and continued sleeping. Or being in a coma. Whichever.

"Anyways," Cartman continued, glaring at me, "Trent comes in looking for a fight only he's turned into . . . Ah dunno, the Human Torch or something."

"Yeah what was up with that?" Token said, leaning against Butters' bed. "He didn't even have a lighter; he just started throwing fire right from his hand!"

Cartman held up a silencing finger, smiling again. "Ah, but we'll be getting to the whys and hows in a moment. Right now, we're dealing with the whats." He went back to pacing, hands behind his back.

"Regular sucker for drama, isn't he?" I heard Wendy mutter to Stan. Stan and I exchanged small grins.

"Now, in the initial chaos, he lays waste to whatever is in his way." Cartman said. "Tables, garbage cans . . ."

"Kenny . . ." I muttered, blinking. Why had I nearly forgotten that?

Stan shot me a frown, but Cartman continued talking. "So he gets Kahl, the weak little kosher boy he is, up in a vice-grip against a vending machine . . ."

I nearly didn't hear the insult, I was too distracted. Wait, did he just skip over Kenny's death?

"For some reason, Trent seemed to pick up on the fact that Kahl had on one of those d^$ bracelets."

How could he skip over that? Kenny had been burnt to a cinder!

"He seemed to be threatened by this, so he made a move to take Kahl out next."

Our friend Kenny! I could still smell the horrible stench! Why had that slipped my mind?

"And that's where things get interesting. Because then Stan yells 'NO' and the vending machine starts spitting all kinds of cans out at him, and dear Trent ends up covered in soda."

Why was it slipping everyone else's? Was that why no one was saying anything? Didn't they remember?

"This doesn't make any sense!" I shrieked.

"Ah, but it does!" Cartman said in the melodramatic manner of a novel detective revealing the who-done-it to his audience. "Because you see, the vending machine-"

"I'm not talking about the d^$ vending machine!" I cried. "What about Kenny?"

Cartman blinked, his drama thrown off slightly. "Keynny? What about Keynny?"

"That's what I said!" I looked around. "He skipped the part about how Trent burned Kenny like a charcoal briquette! Don't any of you remember that?"

My question was met with a lot of confused faces. "Dude, Kenny left the lunchroom," Clyde said.

"Yup. Ran like a thief," Craig echoed in his monotone.

I gaped. "Oh come on!" I said. "You all know Kenny better than that; he wouldn't run when his friends were in trouble!"

Cartman swirled his finger in circles next to his head. "Poor Kahl, Ah that lack of oxygen has killed some of his precious brain cells."

I threw up my hands in frustration. "I know what I saw!" I said, getting more and more sure by the moment. "I saw Kenny die! Actually _die!_"

"I think . . ." Stan muttered. "I . . . I think I did too . . ."

Everyone in the room turned to look at him. He glanced around hesitantly. "Look, I remember him leaving the room too, OK?" he said. "But, its . . . its weird, because I also vaguely remember seeing him burned." He shook his head. "This is crazy, he can't have done both."

"Maybe you're both sharing hallucinations," Cartman said, his voice getting more annoyed. Probably because the conversation was steering away from his reveal; he'd completely lost momentum at this point.

"Of the same thing?" Stan said.

"But what about the rest of us?" Token asked. "I remember him leaving the room too. Are we all hallucinating?"

I opened my mouth, but no explanation came out. It just didn't make sense.

"Augh forget about it!" Cartman yelled. "If it bothers you that much just call him and be done with it; Ah wasn't finished talking here yet -"

[Talking about what?] a familiar muffled voice said.

We all looked towards the door, which was partially ajar. Sticking his head in through the doorway was a familiar scraggly sixteen year old kid in a worn orange parka.

"KENNY!" I cried, then winced. Ow my neck and arm still hurt.

Kenny glanced around, looking confused. [Huh? Did I miss something?] His eye caught a fruit basket that was near Butters' bed. [Sweet, food!] he said, crossed the room, and dove in.

"There, see?" Cartman said. "Keynny's fine! Can Ah finish mah story now?"

Kenny looked up from the grapes he was demolishing. [Fine? Why wouldn't I be fine?]

"You sure you're OK Kenny?" Stan asked carefully.

Kenny shrugged. [Sure, why wouldn't I be?] he said, then took a sip of Butters' juice.

"Because dude," I said, "Some of us distinctly remember you dying not five hours ago."

Kenny spat out the juice all over Cartman.


	4. Chapter 4: The Courier

Hello again! Things are starting to come into focus for the kids now in this chapter. Also, we get the viewpoint of someone I found _very_ fun to write. If anyone kid in this town is considered ADHD I'd put my money on this one. Also, I like the idea that he's way more awesome than he lets on sometimes.

Let me know if you think the whole swapping of the 1st person perspective is working; I've never tried it in a story before, but writing from these kids' viewpoint allows me to figure them out easier. And its turning out to be really fun to try. Working in their personalities plus how they might have changed with age is a challenge I'm enjoying. I use the journal entry thing at the beginning to hopefully transfer into who's head we're in that chapter.

Thanks to everyone who's left a review! Its nice to hear that yall are enjoying the story so far! :D Sadly this chapter is the last of what I had backlogged, but don't worry. I still plan to update once or twice every week. Preferably twice; I'm enjoying writing this as much as I hope yall are enjoying reading it.

"Help your fellow man, g$#d$%it!" is my new catchphrase lol.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: The Courier<strong>

_Dear Diary,_

_ Uh, not really sure what I should write. Writing isn't my strong point anyways. Um . . ._

_ Scrap this, I've always liked comic books better anyways. Oh wait, comic books. How do they sound again?_

_ Ahem. I've been told by my comrades that I should record my thoughts. Such is the nature of war and heroes; we never know when we might breathe our last. So I suppose someone should know as much as possible about the dangers that are threatening to choke our poor town. No, not just the town. This is much bigger than that . . ._

_ I've always gone at it alone. Just me and the scum that still talk like they're human. I've been doing this so long its become a second nature. The others played at heroes when were we kids, but for me, its never been a game. Never. And I've never stopped playing . . ._

_ Hey, its a lot easier like this. I should talk like this in my school essays! :D_

* * *

><p>I gaped at Kyle. What did he just say? [I-]<p>

"AY!" A large meaty hand grabbed me by the front of my parka and nearly lifted me off the ground. I found myself staring Cartman in his juice-covered face. "_Keynny you b$&^#%_, what was that for?"

Haha, that was funny; Cartman with juice on his face. But I should probably get away from him, he's rather mad.

I raised my hands, and, thanks to my thin frame, slid right out of my parka. It wasn't a trick I liked to use, but I didn't have the attention span to deal with Cartman at the moment.

"What the-" I heard him say as I hit the ground at a crouch. I dashed over to Kyle's bed, slapped a palm on the covers, and vaulted to the other side. Stan and Wendy jumped back as I landed between them.

"The h%## was that?" I heard Clyde exclaim, as Cartman began spitting out a slew of bleeps.

"What did you say?" I said, voice unmuffled as I stared right in Kyle's green eyes.

Kyle blinked, looking completely taken aback. "You're surprised," he said. It wasn't a question.

"D^%# right I'm surprised," I said. "No one's ever remembered me dying before."

Silence fell in the room. "Wait, you _did_ die?" Token said.

"Yup," I said. "Burned to a cinder. Hurt like h$##, believe me. One of the more painful deaths I've been through I think. But eh, I've been burned before."

Everyone just stared at me. "What?" I said. "I've told you this before, you know."

"But we never remembered," Kyle said. He had the expression of one who'd just opened his eyes for the first time. I wondered vaguely why Kyle was beating me to my next sentences.

"Hey, I think I remember something about him on fire too," Craig said from the door frame. "Huh, wonder why I forgot it."

"Oh g$^ whats going on?" Tweek yelped, and again jumped at his beep. He gripped his head. "I don't know what to think anymore! This is just too stressful! What the h## is going on man? AUGH!"

Poor Tweek, I felt sorry for the guy sometimes.

"If some people would let me finish mah story," Cartman said, wiping his face off with the corner of Butter's bedspread, "Maybe Ah can help shed some light on recent events." He eyed me. "Well some of them anyways."

"What do you mean 'no one's ever remembered you dying'?" Stan said to me. "You've died before?"

"Yeah, loads of times," I said, shrugging. "F^%#ing frustrating, but what are ya gonna do?"

"ITS THE F&%#ING G^$%# D%# BRACELETS!" Cartman bellowed.

I jumped. "What? What's the bracelets?"

"Didn't any of you see Trent's wrist?" Cartman asked. I saw a series of head shakes. Cartman sighed. "He had a bracelet on too. Ten tah one, he got it in jail; they might be trying it out to see if it keeps inmates in check. Now Stan, you panicked when he nearly killed Kyle, right?"

"I didn't panic," Stan muttered. Wendy patted him on the arm.

'Yeah yeah, shut it," Cartman said. "But you threw your hand up. That hand had the bracelet on it. And you might have been too scared tah remember, but Ah distinctly saw both it and your hand light up blue."

I saw Kyle's eyes widen, and heard Wendy gasp behind me. Everyone else in the room looked as clueless as I felt though. I raised my hand. "Cartman, I don't know what you're talking about; I was dead for most of this, remember? Oh wait, you might not."

Cartman flipped me off, and continued. Jerk. "OK everyone, Ah bet yah anything that this," he held up his wrist, "Is what gave Trent those weird powers. And we," he gestured to everyone in the room, "Are wearing one as well."

Everyone inspected their bracelets with renewed interest. I glanced down at mine, unconcerned. It dangled loosely on my wrist; I wondered vaguely if I could even wriggle out of it. When I'd woken up after dying, it had been there, just like how my clothes were usually already on me. Eh, whatever. Weird things weren't exactly new to me. Or to anyone else actually, beats me why they were so hung up over it.

"How do you know these things are what gave Trent that flame trick?" Stan asked.

"Because of you."

"Me?"

"Think about it," Cartman said shrugging. "That vending machine responded to you, dude."

Stan flexed his fingers. "But I can't make fire," he said.

Cartman facepalmed.

"It's different," Kyle said slowly. "I think the powers must vary from person to person."

Wendy's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh . . . 'their full potential', that's what the advertizement said; I think these are supposed to do this! Or do it if the wearer realizes they can, or something."

"But if that's true," Stan started to say, "Then-"

"Then every one of us has the potential to get our own super powers!" Kyle finished.

"G^# d%$^ it Kyle."

They all exchanged looks as the full impact of this realization dawned on them. "Oh, geez, oh sweet &^%#$ - GAH - this is too much!" Tweek cried. "I don't want superpowers, do you imagine the pressure that would be?"

"Wow, our own powers!" Clyde said. "It'll be like Coon and Friends all over again!"

Cartman grinned. "Exactly. Friends, this is the big break we've been waiting for! A chance to really matter!"

"In other words a chance to make a quick buck or earn some fame," Craig said. "Count me out, this sounds like a waste of my time."

"Don't you want to help your fellow man?" Cartman said, rounding on him.

"H$## no."

"Help your fellow man, g$#d$%it!"

Craig flipped him off.

"AY!"

I sighed. So Cartman was going to get the gang to start playing at heroes again, huh? Well it could be fun. But at the moment, I was more concerned with something else. That cute nurse I saw in the hallway. No wait, the other thing.

I walked back around Kyle's bed and picked my parka up from the floor where Cartman had flung it. I was feeling a little cold without it; I only had on a thin white tank top after all, an old hand-me-down from my older brother Kevin before he'd run off with a gang. Tank tops were for showing off muscles, not keeping out the November mountain air. Shoot, what was worrying me again? Oh right.

"Hey," I said, as I brushed my parka off absentmindedly, "If these bracelets give powers, why is that company selling them to parents?"

Kyle and Stan exchanged looks, and I could see that the same thought had entered their heads. Wendy also frowned. "That's what's bothering me too," she said. "It doesn't make sense that something this potentially dangerous should be billed as a helpful tool to keep children more under control. If anything, it does the exact opposite."

"Who the h$## cares?" Cartman said, then growled. He shot his bracelet an annoyed sneer. "Powers would be useful, but this side effect is really starting to p#%% me off."

I frowned. Were Cartman's teeth always that sharp?

A knock at the door made us all jump. All except for Craig, who just rolled his eyes. "Whaddya want?" he called to the closed door.

"I've got a message here, for ah . . . Eric Cartman?"

"Beat it."

Cartman shoved Craig out of the way and opened the door. I didn't see who was on the other end, but I saw Cartman scowl. "What do you want?"

Who put the two attitudes at the door anyways?

"I've got a message here-"

"Yeah, you already said that. Gimme." Cartman reached out and snatched a paper from the courier, then slammed the door closed. I cocked my head; he was acting unusually annoyed with whoever that had been. Huh.

Cartman ripped open the envelope and gave the letter a cursory glance. Then he read it again with more interest.

OK now I was curious. I edged closer. "Hey can I see it?"

Cartman yanked it out of my reach. "No Keynny, its my letter! Back off!"

"Who'd want to talk to you, Fata$#?" Kyle said.

"Lots of people! Girls, popular kids, the President-AY!"

I'd waited for him to lower his guard then leaped up and grabbed the paper from his hand. Not too difficult to do; I was taller than him if I stood up straight, and I'd always had a talent for snatching things. I was curious about the letter, and I wasn't going to wait for Cartman's drama to reveal what was in it. If he chose to reveal anything at all.

Dodging around Cartman's grasping hands and flapping my parka at him to keep him off, I read the letter out loud:

_Dear Eric Cartman,_

_ By now you've had the pleasure of meeting one of my new friends. I took the liberty of offering him a new outlook on life. Specifically, an outlook that was free of bars and orange jumpsuits. I hope your meeting with him went well; he seemed especially eager to speak with you and your friends. If you are reading this letter, know that there is much more where that came from._

_ I look forwards to seeing how you deal with this. The game is now set; its your move._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Checkmate_

"Who's Checkmate?" I asked, as Cartman finally got a grip on my wrist. "Someone you know?"

"How should Ah know? He's using an alias! Gimme that, its my letter, bad Keynny!" Cartman yanked the paper back out of my grip. I stuck my tongue out at him; I'd succeeded at finding out what was in it anyways.

"Who delivered it?" Kyle asked.

Cartman shrugged. "Some soulless ginger brat; I nearly turned him away."

I froze. "Wait, what?"

"Ah said I nearly turned him away. Glad I didn't though, this letter is actually interesting. Someone sent Trent after us? Do you have any idea what this means?" He grinned. "We've got an arch nemesis!"

"Cartman, you fat bonehead, you have no idea," I said, wrapping my parka around my right hand. Before anyone could stop me, I took a running start and ran fist-first into the window.

_CRASH!_

Ignoring the startled shouts behind me, I jumped out through the broken glass. Kyle and Butters' hospital room had been up on the third floor, but this kind of thing wasn't new to me. If the rest of the gang knew how often I jumped out of windows like this, they'd be yelling about something entirely different.

I grinned. This was the fun part of my job.

As I fell, I could see a smear of red down on the street below. The ginger courier had just left the hospital and was heading down the street.

I should probably do something about my landing before I followed him.

Quickly unraveling my parka from my hand and shaking out the glass, I unfolded it into a sort of makeshift parachute. It was nowhere near enough to slow my descent, but it was able to spin my angle so that I instead fell near the awning of the hospital entrance. I reached out and grabbed the edge, to cut down my speed. The result was my arm nearly ripping off, but I ignored the pain and dropped the remainder of the way to the ground, landing in a half-crouch, half-stumble. It hurt, but I'd been through worse.

I glanced down the street, and saw the redhead had turned around at some sound to look at me. He was fifteen feet away, but I could still see his eyes widen in surprise. Then he turned around and began to run.

I ran faster.

People always make fun of me because I'm skinny. Eh, whatever. I might not have much to me, but what I did have had been secretly honed over years of exercise, street brawling, and pulling stunts like jumping out of a broken window three stories in the air. Oh, and running. Unfortunately for the courier, chasing down bad guys was a second nature to me.

As I ran, I focused my mind. Humor, jokes, happiness . . . I didn't have any room for them while I was working. Kenny was an optimistic, girl-chasing kid from the sticks. Now, I was something so much bigger than he could be. I became my job.

Sort of. This was kinda easier with the right gear, none of which I had on at the moment. Oh well, you make do with whatcha got.

The courier didn't even have time to turn around. I tackled him from behind, slamming him down so that his face was in the pavement. I quickly grabbed his wrists, twisting them behind his back and making it nearly impossible for him to move.

"AUGH!" the kid yelled. From what I could tell, he was maybe a year younger than I was. A high school sophomore then maybe, but not from South Park High. I'd never seen this kid before in my life.

I gave his arm another twist. "Who are you?" I growled. I always dropped my voice a bit on the scale when dealing with thugs; my usual tone was too cheerful to be taken seriously. "Who gave you that letter?"

"I don't gotta tell ya nuthn'!" the kid said, a bit of a street slang accent coming through. "Get offa me!"

I gave his arm another twist. Darn punks, they always ended up squealing anyways, why did they have to put up such an annoying front about it? It only wasted both of our time.

"I'm only going to ask once more," I said. "Who are you and who sent you?"

The kid winced. "I-I can't say!" he gasped. "I'll get in trouble!"

"Cry me a river. You're in trouble if you don't talk here, you know. Who's your boss?"

He gasped. "The . . . the Boss . . ."

"Name!"

"I don't know!" he cried. "He's only called himself Checkmate; I haven't been with the gang for that long-"

"You're from a gang?" I asked, immediately more annoyed. I hated gangs. "What's the name of the gang?"

To my surprise, the kid started to chuckle. "Too late. You'll have to be faster than that if you want any more information from me," he said.

_BANG!_

I felt a sharp pain rip through my side. Gasping, I fell over, clutching my ribs. I could feel blood begin to soak my tank top. I'd been shot! G$#d%# it, not again!

Things began to get fuzzy rather quickly. The courier stood up and loomed over me, and I could barely make out another redheaded figure coming out from an alley. He had backup? Augh, how many times was I going to fall for that one?

"All you have to know is this," the courier said as his face grew blurry. "Checkmate knows all about you and your friends. He's going to see that this whole town feels his fury. If you wanted to know more, maybe you should have asked your fat friend."

I didn't have to ask. Two gingers on one job delivering a letter specifically to Eric Cartman could only mean one thing. This was not good.

The courier's partner walked up and pointed the gun in my face. "But its too late now," the courier said. "Goodbye . . . Mysterion."

Ah f&$ it all, not twice in once day . . .

_BANG!_


	5. Chapter 5: Testing, 1 2 3

Man I'm so evil, leaving yall hanging on cliffhangers. Blame my creative writing classes and all the books I read. See? READING IS VIOLENT!

So anyways, this was the hardest chapter to write so far. Not only cause I'm trying to cram so much in one section, but I often don't understand the viewpoint character at all. Thankfully, I was doped up on hydrocodine painkillers for a problem I have, so I was actually able to get into his head a little better. Yes ladies and gentlemen, I needed _drugs_ to get this character. If you don't know by now who I'm talking about, you sure will when you read.

Also my sister and proofreader/idea-wall/brainstorming-partner is coming to visit, so I might be distracted the next few weeks. I'll try to update at least once a week though, and twice if I can manage it. Cause we both have fun with this story, and she wants more just as much as yall do.

The very last line of this chapter is what I pretty much hope happens to this character in nearly every episode I see him. . . :P Face it, we all know he's asking for it.

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><p><strong>Chapter 5: The Testing<strong>

_November 20th, 2010; Saturday 11:05 pm_

_ I begin this journal not knowing when may be my last entry. I am surrounded by enemies, and any moment may mark the final breath I take. Yet I must remain strong. For I am the only one who can stand in the way of pure evil._

_ I have always known this day would come. When I would be forced to once again take up the mantle of the hero and fight for truth and justice. The time has come. And so help me G^# I will prevail._

_ The others are all hesitant to join in the fight. And who can blame them; only the tough survive in this battle. Who knows how many will fall before the long night is over. But we cannot falter, for the very world depends on our next move. _

_ Here is where I make my stand. Here is where I say "No more!" So help me, I'll be d%$ed if I'm gonna let them call us "The Extreme Avenger League," g^%d%#it!  
><em>

* * *

><p>"The Extreme Avenger League," I said, voice flat.<p>

Everyone around me nodded. We were all sitting around the high school track field. It was an abnormally sunny day out for November in Colorado, but that's just because the sun wanted to be in my eyes. I always hated sunny days when there was snow out; you couldn't see for s^$# in the glare.

It was Saturday, so we didn't have school. Even if we did, I was probably just going to skip it, and I bet many of the others would have too. After all, we all just found out we had powers yesterday; who'd waste time sitting at a desk when they had experimenting to do?

"We all voted," Stan said. "That's what we came up with."

"That's freakn' lame!" I said. "The Extreme Avenger League? Do you have any idea what the acronym for that is? T.E.A.L! Ah'll be d$#ed if Ah'm gonna be called something on the f$#ing color wheel!"

I snarled and glared at the metal band on my wrist. As wonderful as the idea of superpowers was, I wasn't so sure it was worth the increasingly maddening beeps that made up half my sentences these days.

"Much better than Coon and Friends Revisited," Kyle said. The daywalker was sitting on a folding chair that he'd brought with him; his mother wouldn't let her oh-so-precious "Bubby" outside so soon after his hospitalization unless he'd promised to be sitting down most the time. Ike, Kyle's little Canadian brat of a brother, sat next to him playing with a snow shovel that had been left outside the track equipment shed. He hadn't left his brother's side since the ginger Jew had left the hospital this morning.

G&# I hated the whole lot of that miserable family. What a mass waste of air.

"There is nothing wrong with the Coon and Friends brand!" I said. "For starters, its been on the news! Its got national recognition!"

"Yeah, as a bake sale put up by nine-year-olds," Clyde said, lounging on the track. "Dude that was ages ago; who's even gonna remember?"

"And you weren't even in the group then," Kyle said. "We kicked your fata$# out. You didn't get any of that publicity."

"SHUT UP KAHL!"

"Coon and Friends was always a dumb name anyways," Token said. The whole rest of the backstabbers began nodding and murmuring their agreement.

I glared at the lot of them. What the f&#$ were they all ganging up on me for? "Even if - and Ah'm not saying we will - use a different name, can't we come up with something better than T.E.A.L? J%## C%#$!" I smacked my bracelet in frustration.

"Sorry Cartman, but the rest of us have voted," Stan said, folding his arms. "T.E.A.L. carried the win, nine to one."

I did some quick counting in my head, then pointed at Ike. "Who said that little punk could vote?" I cried.

"BACK OFF MY BROTHER!" Kyle yelled. "Besides, I already told him about the superpowers; he just wants to help!"

"He's freakn' ten years old! How can that help at all?"

"He's eleven, and he'll be a lot more help than _your_ selfish fat butt, a##h$%," Kyle said, folding his arms.

Ike stuck his tongue out at me. I nearly throttled him.

"But Keynny wasn't even here tah vote, he's still dead! Or regenerating, or whatever he does when he's respawning. How can you count him?"

"You tried to for Coon and Friends," Token said. "So we get to for T.E.A.L."

I was furious. They weren't listening to me at all. And I'd come up with the idea of the superhero team too! That's injustice for ya, right there! G$#d%#it all, why did Kenny have to go jumping out a window and get himself gunned down anyways? He should be here backing me up, the poor piece of s^$#! Now I was outnumbered and I didn't even know what had gotten into the crazy little street rat or why some courier felt the need to fill him with lead. Oh well, at least the Brofloskis had been stuck with the bill for the window. That was a plus.

I glared around. I wasn't ready to let this go just yet, but there were also other things bothering me. "I still don't see why you let that mini-Jew in here, and I also don't see why _she_ is here!"

I glared down my pointing finger at Wendy, Stan's eternal on-and-off girlfriend and the biggest thorn in my side since the third grade. She held my glare with her own. "I'd like to see you get rid of me now, Eric Cartman," she said.

I was so tempted to try. The last thing I needed in this group was for this dangerous vixen to be nearby while I was trying to organize the future of the world. It was bad enough I had to see her hanging off Stan's arm nearly every day in school for . . . how many years had it been now? Too many.

There were many people in school I hated. Jewrat Kyle. Jerkoff Craig. Sometimes Jock Stan. Practically every senior. But no one I feared. Except one. And if she ever figured that out . . . or why . . .

"Wendy's staying," Stan said. "Plus Ike. And we're T.E.A.L. Deal with it. Can we move on now?"

Have I mentioned I sometimes hate Stan?

I looked around and saw unmovable faces. They really weren't going to budge on this one. That's gratitude for you. Fine, I'd slip the title Coon and Friends on my own sometime, when the press started getting a hold of our story. That would show 'em. B#$%$#s.

I cleared my throat. "OK we'll table the name and ranks for now. But in the meantime, its time we ran some tests."

"Tests? Oh J%$$ C$&$%, I can't handle tests now!" Tweek shrieked. "What if I fail? What if I get kicked out of the club? What if-"

"Tweek, you expresso-hyped freak, shut up!" I said. Man he was annoying. "You can't fail these tests, G$#, its just tah see what powers ya got!"

"Yeah, its fine Tweek," Token said. "If you do fail anything, its just cause you don't have a power for that. No big deal."

"Or he's one who just can't realize his 'potential'," Craig said, leaning against the equipment shed. "In which case yeah, he'll probably get kicked out of our club."

"AUGH!" Tweek shrieked.

Stan glared at Craig, who continued standing there, leaning against the shed, looking unconcerned.

I rubbed my chin, looking at Tweek thoughtfully. "Actually, Ah have a theory," I muttered. If the advertizement talked about our potential, then the powers we had were probably somewhat based on what made us individuals. In which case, it might be easier than I suspected to guess some peoples' powers. Now that they were aware they could have them, all some needed was just a little kick start.

I walked over to the paranoid blonde. "Hey Tweek, maybe we can try something like – GRAUGH!" I jumped at him, arms over my head and teeth bare like a tiger on the attack.

"ACK!" he yelped, and disappeared.

I blinked. He'd actually disappeared.

"Whoa!" Token said. "Where did he-"

"Hey!" I heard a faint voice call. "J%#$ Cartman, don't _do_ that! That scared the s&%$ out of me; you looked like a monster!"

Monster? I wasn't that scary, you caffeine-addict! The nerve!

I glanced down the track to where I was hearing the voice. Way beyond and hiding somewhat behind a school wall, I saw Tweek. Over two hundred yards away.

"Wow," Stan said.

"Did he . . ." Clyde said, eyes wide.

I grinned. "Well, someone was easy tah figure out," I said. "HEY TWEEK! Run back over here, Ah think some seniors might be coming your way, and you know how much they love tah hit lower classmen!"

Tweek leapt into action, and the next thing I knew he was standing in front of me, gasping. His sneakers were smoking.

"Dude!" Kyle said. "You _ran_!"

"Ran like the wind," Craig said. Even he looked impressed.

"GAH-really?" Tweek looked worried, but interested. "Does that mean I have a power?"

"Welcome tah the team, Speedy Gonzales," I said. "Try not tah have a heart attack. Who's next?"

Stan raised his hand. "I'd like to know what you meant by 'blue light' and me earlier," he said.

"OK you're another easy one." I walked over and rapped the equipment shed door with my knuckles. "There's some stuff in here for sports,"I said, "But there's also stuff like the lawnmower and whatnot for keeping care of the field. Ah want you tah focus on the lawnmower."

"Why?"

"Just do it. Try tah focus on what a lawnmower is like when you turn it on."

"That sounds stupid."

"Just do it, a#h%$#."

Stan frowned, but closed his eyes. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, right when I was beginning to think he was a dumber jock than I thought, I saw a glow light up behind his eyelids. A blue light also formed lines that jagged electronically across his hands and through the bracelet.

With a whirr, the lawnmower inside the shed sputtered on.

Stan's eyes flashed open, briefly blue, and then the glow died. The lawnmower died with it.

"What was that?" Wendy gasped.

"That," I said, "Was the _real_ Toolshed in action. Stan my man, you can control machines."

His jaw dropped. I grinned. Yeah, I was this awesome. All hail me.

"It makes sense," he said quietly. "That toaster with my dad, the lights that keep flickering around me, my phone that would turn on before I'd even hit any buttons . . ."

"This is awesome! What about me?" Kyle asked, looking eager now.

I raised my eyebrow at him. "You really haven't figured that out yet Kahl? And I thought you were the smart one!" Maybe Jews weren't as smart as he'd like to think they were.

Kyle's eyes flashed dangerously. "Don't belittle my people, fata##!" he yelled.

I grinned again. Got 'im. "Kahl," I said, pressing my fingertips together, "I didn't say anything about yer Jewgangs."

He paused. "But, you just . . . didn't you say . . ."

"I guess Jews aren't as smart as you'd like to think they are?" I finished. "No, I didn't say that." I held up a finger. "Out loud, anyways."

Stan gasped. "Dude! You and the whole finishing sentences thing!"

"You're psychic!" Wendy exclaimed.

"There's no such thing!" Kyle said. "There's always a perfectly reasonable explanation for those kinds of phenomenon!"

"Yeah,"I said sarcastically. "Like the fact that you really are psychic, maybe even telekinetic; eat that for an explanation. And while you're at it, maybe you'd like tah explain how Stan can turn a lawnmower on from outside a locked door, or how Tweek can run the two hundred dash in less that a second, or how your brother is attracting metal objects."

Kyle spun in his chair to face Ike. Ike was frowning and trying to wave off the shovel that was now sticking to his hand. "Ow, it zapped me," he complained.

"Zapped?" Kyle asked.

Ike gripped the shovel with his other hand and managed to pry it away. As he did so, an arc of yellow light shot between the shovel and his hands, and his black hair promptly stood on end.

Clyde rolled on the snow covered grass, laughing. Ike looked like he had a straight-out afro. I smirked as I reached over and pulled away the shovel, causing a few more arcs of electricity. "Congratulations Jewrat, you're the proud brother of Static Cling."

Ike put his two index fingers close to each other, and his eyes lit up when electricity flashed between them. "Cool!" he said.

Kyle reached over and flattened Ike's puffy hair. "Not just static cling; electromagnetism to be exact, Cartman."

"Details." I said, waving my hand.

"The things I can do with this," Ike said, grinning. He flicked his wrist and sent a small yellow bolt arching across the air. "I can't wait to experiment!"

I scowled. The little f$&#ing genius was already getting the hang of his powers, and he'd just gotten them two minutes ago? H$##, he'd figured out he could even get them without any provocation; this kid was ridiculous. Odd that it was electromagnetism though; I wondered what in his personality or background could have prompted that particular ability. Maybe the electronic signals in his brain were more powerful than normal, what with him being some super-genius? Little prick.

I saw a smirk on Kyle's face and immediately thought loudly of a porn movie of my mother's. Kyle shuddered and looked in another direction.

D^#! That was going to get annoying. I'd better keep my thinking under a visual shield from now on; the last thing I needed was for f^#%ing Kyle to, whether on purpose or accidentally, read something off my mind I didn't want anyone knowing. And I had a lot of those thoughts. Augh, why did Kyle of all people have to be psychic?

A movement near the school building caught my eye, and I immediately recognized the silhouette. Oh great, another annoyance. "Hey Wendy," I said. "Can ya do me a favor and take over? See if you can't get Clyde, Token, and Anti-Stan over there stimulated enough to trigger their powers."

"F^&# off, Cartman," Craig said, glaring at me. He hated it when I called him that. Wasn't my fault he was essentially a boring version of Stan, even down to the black hair.

"Why me?" Wendy asked.

"Cause they're guys, you're a girl. So stimulate them.

"That's sexist!" she cried.

"That's my girlfriend you're talking about!" Stan said, equally annoyed.

I frowned. I _knew_ that, f^#$ing jock; would he stop rubbing that in?

"I'm not seeing a downside," Clyde said.

"None here either," Token said. The two boys grinned at Wendy.

"Hands off," Stan warned.

Wendy glared at me, but then transferred her look of doom over to the two flirts. "OK, you boys want stimulation?" she said, rolling up her purple coat sleeves. "Here comes stimulation for you."

I turned my back on the situation and began walking towards the school. Behind me I could hear Clyde start yelping in pain. I didn't bother to hold back the large smile on my face. Yeah, if I was going to leave anyone in charge, it would be the one person I'd trust to get results.

G$#d$#$it, no one could "stimulate" like Wendy could when she was mad. It was such a f^$#ing turn-on; what I wouldn't give to put that shrew in her proper place myself sometimes, show her what _real_ stimulation was like-

I quickly shook my head. No I was so not going to go there right now. I had that annoyance to deal with.

"Hello Butters," I said, as I walked around the wall.

The smaller blonde boy gave a yelp and jumped backwards. He'd been hanging back by the school watching us for some time now, probably trying to figure out if he could join in on whatever fun we were having. I knew he'd been released from the hospital soon after Kyle had been; once he'd woken up the doctors deemed him well enough to go home. I just hadn't gotten around to telling anyone yet. The kid still sported several bandages, more than Kyle currently was wearing. It made him look more pathetic than ever.

"OH!" Butters cried, knocking his knuckles together in that nervous habit of his. "Uh, hi Eric! I-I've been wonderin' where y'all had got to, so I'd was just figurin' I'd go out lookin' for ya after I got out-out of the hospital n' all, but I see y'all are in the middle 'o somethin' and I was just wonderin' if I could j-join-"

"Sorry Butters, but we're full," I said.

His stammering speech fell silent for a moment. "Full? W-whaddya mean, full?"

I put an arm around Butters' shoulder. "Butters, you can keep a secret, can't you?"

"Oh! S-sure Eric, you can count on me!"

I put on a pained expression. "I don't know Butters, I'm not even sure I should be telling you this . . ."

"Its OK Eric, why, I promise I won't tell no one! Honest!"

Gosh being this stupid had to be illegal. Normally, Butters would be great to have around if only so I had someone I could manipulate on my side. But there was no way Butters was hero material, no matter _what_ power he might end up with (if any at all), so there was no way I was going to let him into the revamped Coon and Friends. And if he showed his face to any of the others, they'd probably let him in just from his stupidity yesterday in trying to hold off Trent Boyett. No, Butters was useful, but not in that way. Maybe if he was good, I'd let him be our butler. Or something. Later. Much later.

"Well, its just that . . . the others," I said, putting on my most sympathetic face. "They seem tah think that you blew it yesterday."

Butters' eyes widened. "Blew it?"

"Yeah, you let Trent get in, after all, didn't you?"

"But-but I tried as hard as I could, honest!" he said, looking distraught.

"Ah know, and that's what Ah told them, and they're too nice tah say it tah your face, but they're really disappointed," I said. "Its . . . its probably best that you stay away from 'em for a bit. Just for awhile. Give them some space. They may come tah forgive you in time."

Butters looked at his feet. "Well, all right Eric . . . if you think so," he said sadly.

"Trust me," I said, struggling to keep the grin off my face. "Its for the best."

He just nodded, and slowly trudged away. He paused a few steps off, looking back towards the others, but then he caught my eye. I pointed my finger away in a 'get out of here' gesture. Biting his lip, he spun around and ran off.

I sighed. "That was a close one," I muttered. Imagine, our cool new superhero gang, having to deal with Butters? Tweek and Ike were bad enough; the last thing we needed was for the lamest gaywad in the school to hang out with us also; our enemies would die laughing before we could have a chance to hit them.

"Not as close as this," I heard a voice growl.

I turned around, and someone punched me in the face.


	6. Chapter 6: What Did You Do

You got a hint of it a little in Chapter one, but I know a small bit about car models. So if a character has a car, I'm gonna say what it is lol. Probably will have no bearing on the plot, but I can't help it. Cars are awesome. Besides, these chapters are from the first person perspective of teenagers. I was a teenager once (duh); they notice cars. Its one of many status symbols that's subconsciously used to make up how cool one is. No its not fair, but it doesn't get any more fair the older you get.

By the way, I have nothing against Michael Jackson. I love his music. I was just trying to think of something that a teenage girl would hate to be referred to looking like. I don't know enough about celebrities to find someone else to pick on; I'm not as knowledgeable about them as I am about cars.

Man I'm such a tomboy. I like cars, I know jack squat about celebrities and famous people, and I'm writing a story with more action than romance. Go fig. I'll have to work some more mushy stuff in to compensate.

Anyways.

And slowly, the characters are discovering more and more powers! Now if only they can figure out how they work, they may have a successful superhero group. Realistically, some are going to get the hang of it way faster than others. And I do have logical explanations for each character's power too; I can trace them back to inspiration in the show. Maybe I'll make a list later after I've revealed all the abilities.

Hm, I think my dislike of Bebe is becoming apparent in this chapter . . . I apologize in advance to Bebe fans over her role in my story. Please don't kill me yet; I at least want to finish writing first.

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><p><strong>Chapter 6: What Did You Do<strong>

_Dear Diary,_

_ I find it amusing that Cartman's told us all to write journals of our superhero experiences. I didn't need his encouragement; as you can see, I've been keeping a diary for years now. I'm on my third book for heaven's sake. Even more amusing is the fact that he thinks we're actually going to divulge the contents of our journals. Diaries are personal; like h&## I'll share any of it with that a##h*$#!_

_ I'm not sure what he's up to, but its probably something nasty, as usual. All I know is that while we may have enemies we have to worry about, I think the bigger problem is much closer than them. And I'm not just talking about Eric Cartman._

* * *

><p>I stood amidst a massive swarm of bugs. Around me, the guys were expressing all various shades of surprise, from simple stunned to (in Tweek's case) horror.<p>

"Well, that wasn't quite what I expected," I said conversationally.

Stan gave me a hopeless look.

A series of loud beeps made me look up. Cartman was running back to us, holding his nose and looking dead furious. I could see blood under his hand. What the?

Then I noticed he was chasing someone. I waved a few mosquitoes away from my face to see. A familiar kid in a worn orange parka. His hood was down, so I could see the anger in his own face. That was not a normal Kenny face.

Hm, good thing he hid behind that parka at school. He was a hopeless flirt as it was; I shuddered to think of the other poor girls actually realizing that he was rather cute under that hood, even when he seemed annoyed.

"Hey Stan," I heard Kyle say, "Looks like Kenny's back."

Stan glanced over and smiled. "I like what I see already."

"Shut the f%^# up, Stan!" Cartman yelled. "This a##h%&$ punched me!" He made a dive for Kenny, but it was useless. Kenny was as agile as a rabbit. I heard Kyle and Ike begin laughing over the comedic scene of the large and clumsy Cartman scrambling after the skinny and nimble Kenny as they ran in circles through the swarm of mosquitoes flying around.

"D%$^ Kenny, why aren't you trying out for football as a running back?" Stan said.

"'Cause the Fates hate me enough, thanks," Kenny said, leaping over Cartman. "Besides, I have all the extracurricular activities I can handle."

"I'll show YOU extracurricular, you poor piece of s&$%!" Cartman yelled.

I folded my arms and looked at him, trying to suppress a smirk. "I bet you ten dollars you deserved it," I said, giving Cartman my most withering bossy voice.

Cartman stopped chasing Kenny and shot me a look of pure death. "For your information, b%#$^, I didn't! I didn't even do anything to him! He just walked up and hit me!"

"Don't call my girlfriend a b%#$^, fata##!" Stan shot at him. G%$ he was hot.

"He did so deserve it!" Kenny said.. "I got shot again 'cause of him! If his past wants to come back and bite him, it doesn't have to f%&#ing gun for me first!"

"You're the one who jumped out a window, retard!" scowled Cartman.

This was so weird, Kenny's all coming back from the dead. Obviously it had been going on a lot longer than we had bracelets; I wonder what was causing that particular power. And what did he mean by Cartman's past?

"Besides," Kenny continued, moving his arm out of Cartman's reach, "I was just arriving after a particularly long and annoying respawn when I saw fata%% scaring off Butters. And all that poor kid wanted to do was hang out with us."

"You jerk!" Stan yelled. "After what Butters did for us yesterday?"

"Oh boo hoo," Cartman said. "Come on, you really think that p&$$% Butters can be a superhero? He could have all the powers of the X-Men combined and still get beat up."

"As much as I am really hating Cartman right now," Kyle said, "He might have a point."

I frowned. "How does excluding poor Butters give Cartman a point?"

"He means that Cartman is right about Butters getting the s&^% beat out of him no matter what his power might be," Craig said. "Seems pretty straight-forwards to me."

"Poor guy," Token said. "And even if he did get a powerful one, can you imagine him hurting anyone with it?"

Oh. OK, that was a valid point. Wait a second. I looked oddly over at Cartman, who was swatting at the bugs. Did he know that? Was it possible that deep down, he was actually trying to protect Butters? Was Eric, in his own way, actually a nice guy somewhere in his personality?

"OK its settled," Cartman said. "No wusses allowed in our group. Now we either have to man up Tweek, or kick him out too."

"GAH!" Tweek cried.

"G&%, why is every blond I know a p&$$%?" Cartman complained.

"F&%$ off!" Kenny said, pulling at his bracelet.

Nope, I take it back. Cartman's a jerk.

He swatted another bug.

"HEY!" I said, realizing what he was doing. "Don't do that, Cartman!"

He frowned. "Do what?"

"Don't swat the mosquitoes!"

He stared at me. "You're kidding right? Has your hippie mind really snapped that far?" He turned to Stan. "Dude, get your girlfriend to a hospital, I think her environmentalism might be terminal."

Instead, Stan reached out and stopped Cartman's hand. "Dude, haven't you noticed Clyde is missing?" he asked.

Cartman frowned a moment, then paused. His eyes roamed over the mosquito swarm and widened. "No f%^&ing way . . ."

"Ew!" Kenny said, and promptly pulled his hood up.

Cartman looked at me, jaw open. "What did you _do_?"

I shrugged. "You said stimulate them. So I hit him in the most stimulated spot."

"You didn't . . ."

To my left, Ike made a swift-kick motion. The other boys looked away, pained expressions on their faces.

Kenny yelped and protectively grabbed his crotch. Cartman was looking at me with a face that bordered on horror and admiration. I couldn't help but smirk. Yeah lets see him top that one today.

"So Clyde's power is to turn into a whole g#$d%^$# swarm of blood-sucking bugs?" Cartman said, breaking eye contact and looking around. "What the h%$$ kind of superpower is that?"

"Well he grew wings and antennae initially when Wendy twisted his ears," Stan said. "But she thought she could get more out of him."

"That's when Clyde suggested just _what_ she could get out of him," Token said, scratching his head. "And she, uh, kicked him."

Kenny snickered. Men.

"Only one problem though," Kyle said. "We can't figure out how to turn him back."

"Ha!" Cartman smirked at the swarm flying around. "Not only does he have a lame power, but he got himself stuck? What a dumba%%!"

The swarm suddenly began to converge on Cartman. He gave a yelp, swinging his arms this way and that. It was rather amusing to watch.

At that point, I felt my cellphone vibrate. Ignoring the increasing yells from Cartman, I reached into my purse and fished it out. Bebe's number flashed on the screen. Whoops, I had completely forgotten about her in all the excitement. We had been planning to go shopping today. I bit my lip wondering how I was going to tell her that while shopping was interesting, I just had better things to do. Besides, we'd gone shopping last Saturday. Oh well, I should just tell her something had come up.

The moment I flipped the phone open though, I heard Bebe's screeches in my ear. "Bebe, what's wrong?" I asked.

"Wendyyyy!" I heard her sob. "The most horrible thing has happened! I look like a freak!"

To the side, the other boys had gathered up and were trying to herd the swarm together in an attempt to get them to reform into Clyde. Cartman was beeping like morse code.

"I bet your hair's not that bad," I said, taking a step back from the growing commotion. "You just got it permed last week, didn't you?"

"I'm not talking about my hair! I'm hideous! I look like Michael Jackson!"

I rolled my eyes. I was not in the mood for Bebe's exaggeration right now. "I bet if I were to come over, you wouldn't look that bad."

"No you don't understand me! I don't just resemble Michael Jackson, I really do _look _like him! Black hair and everything!"

I frowned. OK that was a little weird. "Did you dye your own hair again?"

"No! I haven't done anything! You gotta come over and help me!"

"All right, I'll be there in a moment," I said, sighing. I flipped the phone closed and turned to Stan, who was waving his arms at some bugs pointlessly. "Hey Stan, Bebe's having some crisis, I need to go calm her down."

Stan glanced over his shoulder. "Uh, OK if you need to. Be careful, and don't worry about this mess; we'll sort it out one way or another."

I grinned, then gave him a quick kiss. He grabbed my head and made it a little less quick. He'd gotten over the whole nerves thing (finally) in middle school, but I could tell from the way his face went red that he still got butterflies. It was so cute.

I heard Kenny give a muffled whistle, but I ignored him.

I felt a little less inclined to leave now, but Bebe needed help. So I broke off our kiss, waved to the other guys who waved back distractedly, and dashed off. Cartman yelled something about cleaning up my own mess, but I ignored him.

* * *

><p>I pulled up to Bebe's house fifteen minutes later. I could see her Barbie-pink Corvette in the driveway; she'd begged for a year for it for her sixteenth birthday. It probably broke the bank of her parents too, but Bebe had her own way of getting what she wanted. Me, I just made do with using my mom's Toyota Camry. I didn't need something flashy anyways and if I did, Stan drove a freakn' Camaro. In any case, because her car was so easy to spot, it made it easy to tell where Bebe was.<p>

I knocked on the door, but no one answered. I rang the doorbell.

"Wendy?" I heard a voice from an upstairs window.

"Bebe?" I called. "Are you in your room?"

"Yes. Go ahead and come in, just . . . promise not to scream."

The h%$$?

I opened the door and headed upstairs to Bebe's room. Her parents appeared to be out, so it was probably just her home. I found her bedroom door ajar and opened it up.

Michael Jackson stared back at me, sitting on Bebe's bed, eyes puffy from crying.

My jaw dropped. It was Michael Jackson. Right there. Nothing about him even remotely resembled Bebe.

"See?" Michael sobbed. "I'm hideous!"

"B-Bebe?" I said incredulously. "Is that really you?"

She/He/It let out a wail and burst into tears.

I sat down on a chair. "Bebe, what happened?" This really made no sense.

"I-I got in a fight with my mom last night," she said. "Said she was a b^%$# for putting this miserable thing on my wrist. T-then she said I should be happy; some people have had to look much worse, like Michael Jackson. I went to bed mad. When I woke up, I-I was like this! I bet its her fault; she c-cursed me or something!"

My eyes went immediately to her bracelet. Thin, intricate lines were glowing pink and intersecting all over the surface. Oh boy. "Uh, Bebe, I need to tell you something," I said.

She sniffed. "What?"

I pointed at her bracelet. "I think that's what's causing this."

Michael/Bebe looked at her wrist. "Huh, its glowing. It hasn't done that yet."

I looked around and found a picture of Bebe on her dresser. It was from last year's Homecoming prom. She'd gone with Clyde that time, but I noticed he was only half in the shot. "Here, I said, handing the picture to her. "Try to focus on that. Think about how you usually look."

She took the picture and stared at it a good few minutes. Then I noticed the straight black hair of Michael begin to curl and lighten in color. Her figure morphed, wispy pink glowing lines traveling all over her. Soon she was back to not only looking like herself, but like herself from the picture. Skimpy red dress, styled hair, makeup, the works.

She promptly got up and stood in front of her full length mirror. "I'm beautiful again!" She said. "How . . ."

"Stan and the guys figured out that the bracelets have some weird ability to give powers," I said, shrugging. "I think it takes a strong mind to trigger the effect, but there you have it."

Bebe looked at her bracelet again with renewed interest. She focused for a moment, then the glow on the band stopped. Her glamor slowly morphed back into a more relaxed look. Her hair was down around her shoulders, makeup gone, and she was dressed in her flowing nightgown. She looked up and smiled. "I think I like this."

That was a one-eighty from just a moment ago. I frowned. There was a look to her eye that I didn't quite like. I was immediately reminded of her reputation amongst the student population. "You'd better not use that to seduce the rest of the guys in school," I said. "You've gotten enough of them, thanks."

Bebe gave a toss of her hair. "Like I really need this to charm those hicks," she said. "I can easily get any guy I want, and I have."

"Oh really? Like Kyle?"

Bebe froze. "He'll warm up," she said defensively.

I snorted. Like h&$$. Kyle was one of the most moral people in school. He'd made it clear at the beginning of high school that he didn't want anything to do with girls like Bebe; he was a one girl guy, not a one-night-stand guy. Wendy had stood up for her friend at the time because she thought that maybe Kyle had been reading too much into Bebe's flirting, but since then even she couldn't turn a blind eye to how many guys her friend ran with in a semester. Bebe however had become obsessed with the idea of convincing Kyle otherwise, and would every once in a while try flirting with him in the most overt ways possible. If anything though, Kyle just seemed to be getting more scared of her. It'd be funny if it wasn't so sad.

I eyed Bebe who was admiring herself in the mirror. Should I tell her about the superhero club that the guys were forming? She had powers herself now, maybe she could use them properly with the right guidance.

I opened my mouth to ask her about joining when my phone rang again. Stan's number was on the screen, so I flipped it open. "Hi Stan, did you figure Clyde out yet?"

"Wendy!" he said. "You gotta get down here right now!" Some loud boom echoed in the phone.

"Stan?" I cried, standing up. "Stan, what's going on? Are you all right?"

Some more loud sounds and some shuffling. Some yells in the background. "Wendy? Are you still there?" Stan's voice came back. He sounded like he was on edge.

"Yes, I'm here Stan! What is it? What's wrong?"

"Get over here fast, we have a situation!" he said.

"What is it?" I asked.

A loud explosion sounded.

"Butters got powers."


	7. Chapter 7:  Chaos Incarnate

YAAAY internet works, I can finally, FINALLY UPLOAD.

I looove getting in this character's head. He's so much fun. The chapter though was still the hardest to write, cause I had like a million different ways to write it and things that could or could not happen. I still wonder if I went the right route, but oh well no sense crying over spilt milk. Or blown-up douglas firs. Blown up school property might be worth worrying about though.

Anyways I really relate with this character in several ways, which is probably really sad, but there you go. I also have a natural inclination to ramble in my writing (hence the common occurrences of commas and parentheses), something I hope my creative writing classes have helped to curb. Although it does still come out on occasion; see this paragraph. But it comes in handy for this perspective.

Today's writing lesson: Rambling is apparently OK so long as your punctuation is spot on!

[Runs from English teachers]

By the way, if you ever want to feel like you can understand particular characters in a particular story, try writing a short bit from each of their first person point of view. Make their viewpoint really sound like the character is actually thinking the stuff. Then be reeeally mean and end with nasty cliffhangers. I'm really enjoying it. Well, the perspective part. Anyways, come on and try it; it will make some fun fanfics!

. . . Did I mention I tend to ramble? Shutting up now.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7: Chaos Incarnate<strong>

_Dear Diary,_

_ Why hello there, Diary! How're you doing today? My name is Leopold Stotch, but everyone just calls me Butters. Get it? Butters Stotch? Butterscotch? :D I don't think anyone calls me Leopold anymore. Actually, I can't remember the last time I was called Leopold. I should check my birth certificate; I wonder if that's not even my name at all. Maybe Mom and Dad have been lying to me this whole time. They call me Butters too, ya know. But I'm afraid to ask; I hate being grounded._

_ Anyways, I hope you've been having a good time. 'Cause I don't know what to make of it over on this end of the paper. Eric says if I write it down it will make more sense, but I'm still confused._

_ The day it started, Eric had told me that the others were mad at me. That made me feel bad, because I'd really tried hard to stop Trent. But he's just so much bigger than me! And that fire, that was really hot! I began to think if only I had a power like that, maybe I could do something. Maybe I could have stopped him then, and no one would be mad at me. I really don't like it when people are mad at me, especially since I try hard to make it so they aren't mad at me._

_ When I got home Dad grounded me. Think it was about ending up in the hospital, and how hospital stays weren't cheap. I didn't do it on purpose! But what could I do?_

_ So yeah, I was feeling really down. Thankfully, my best friend in the whole world, Dougie, called me up. Even though he's in eighth grade and goes to a different school, we still hang out. He's nicer than most the kids in high school anyways. He suggested that if I was feeling so confused and dejected (I think that was the word he used) then maybe we should try something we haven't done in ages. It seemed like a good idea. After all, Butters couldn't stop Trent. But if I showed the fellas that there was more to Butters, maybe even pretend I had powers, then they wouldn't be mad at me no more! Butters was a pushover, but I knew someone who wasn't. And so I dusted off my old costume, made a couple fast adjustments (wow I didn't know I'd gotten so much bigger!), and met Dougie over at his house after sneaking out of mine. I hope I don't get in more trouble; maybe Mom and Dad won't check on me anytime soon. Then we went to show the guys that we could be just as tough as Trent. I just wasn't expecting someone to already be there . . ._

* * *

><p>"I miss this," Dougie said next to me. He adjusted his foil glasses and tried to smooth his curly red hair.<p>

"Yeah," I said. I shifted the foil helmet on my head; it didn't quite fit right with the bandages that were still wrapped there. "Although I-I kinda wish we'd had the time ta hit the metalwork shop ya know; this foil and cardboard seems kinda . . . kinda flimsy ta me after bein' stuck so long in my closet. An' even more so after havin' ta make adjustments. Man, my head has gotten bigger 'r somethin'!"

"Maybe we can do that later!" Dougie said. "The metal shop! After our 'attack' on the 'heroes' that is."

My heart sank. "Aw, but I ain't in shop class. Clyde and Craig are though . . . an' I think Token was takin' it next semester but I-I'm not too sure 'bout that, he might 'ave been just talkin' 'bout doin' it but wasn't really all that serious, and Stan had taken it last semester, although now that I think about it we-we might be able ta get Gary ta help-"

"We're here," Dougie said.

I blinked. Walking to school when your town wasn't that big sure didn't take that long.

"Are they still over by the track?" Dougie asked.

"I-I'm not sure," I said. "Lets go around back and see."

We stuck our head around the school building, and sure enough, the gang was still there. I didn't see Wendy anywhere, but the rest looked like they were up to something. They were all huddled around, looking at something in the middle that I couldn't quite make out.

Earlier, I'd heard Eric and the other fellas talking something about powers and stuff. Maybe they were trying to figure out how Trent got his? It didn't make sense then that they didn't want me around; after all I was the first one to see him.

But no, I was excluded again. Normally I took it in stride and all, but after getting beat up by Trent again, then waking up in the hospital with more bandages than bare skin, and then getting grounded, and then being snubbed yet again . . . or wait, the snub came first, then the grounding. Right? Well really, they just kinda added up. Dougie knew that when that happened I just needed to vent.

And here's where our prank came in! We were dressing up as our old "evil" alter egos, ready to take down the "heroes" just like we used to do. Or well, tried to used to. We didn't mean nuthin' by it; Dougie had a few firecrackers left over from last Fourth of July, and we'd jump out and scare the others. Since they were talking 'bout super heroes and all that, maybe we might actually surprise them. It felt kinda weird, doing our own prank, and I was starting to feel bad and get second thoughts, but seeing the group all talking with each other made me feel kinda jealous. Besides, I had always felt braver for some reason behind my mask. Butters Stotch was a mild-mannered teenage kid, who didn't sneak out of his house or carry banned fireworks or prank his friends.

But I wasn't Butters Stotch anymore. I was Professor Chaos. And I also missed this.

"General Disarray," I said, my voice sounding more authoritative.

"Professor Chaos, sir!" Dougie said, snapping to attention.

"Ready the Anti-Hero Gernades. Its time to make some noise!"

Dougie opened up his backpack, rummaged a bit, then took out a string of firecrackers. Before he lit them though, a movement caught my attention. "Huh?"

Someone else was nearby. He stood up on a branch of a tree that was near the track, wearing pitch black. I wouldn't have even seen him had another movement not caught my eye. Was it this person or something else that moved? I wasn't sure. But there was something I did notice.

This person had a gun. A reeeeeally big gun. And I couldn't be positive, but I think it was pointing down at the track.

"Got the crackers ready, sir!" Dougie said, handing me a lit string.

I took it without looking at it, still trying to make out the figure on the branch. "H-hey, d'ya know who that fella might be over . . . over there, right up on that tree?" I asked.

"Who?" Dougie's eyes followed my pointing finger. "I don't see anyone sir, just the douglas fir."

Huh. Maybe he wasn't at the right angle. The stranger sure was hard to make out. I was about to ask him to come over to where I was standing, but felt my hand get hot. I looked down and saw the firecrackers in my hand, lit fuse right next to my fingers and the first cracker.

Hamburgers!

"YIPE!" I cried, throwing the string as far away as I could. I guess because I'd been looking in that direction, I ended up throwing the crackers that way. One thing was sure though, I sure threw it far further than I'd ever thrown anything before. Rather fast too, because they hit the tree within a second.

Ka-_BOOOM!_

The base of the tree exploded in wooden splinters and fire. The shock of the blast threw snow all around the tree up in the air. I nearly jumped ten feet in the air, the sound startled me so much! I don't think I'd ever heard anything so loud in my life! To make things more crazy, other loud bangs began to go off all over, as the firecrackers finally burst.

Dougie let out a yell and jumped behind me. On the track, everyone spun around in surprise as the remains of the tree crashed down nearly on top of them. They scattered. The tree hit the ground, and dirt and snow kicked up everywhere. The crackers were still popping all over.

"What the-" I heard someone on the track yell.

"What the h#$$ is going on?"

"Are we being shot at? Is that ginger kid back?"

"Maybe its Trent? I saw some fire!"

[Augh, I don't wanna get shot _again!_]

"If its Trent, you won't get shot; you'll get burned, dumba&&."

[I don't want that either!]

I glanced behind me to General Disarray, who was clutching his backpack, eyes wide behind his foil glasses. "What was that, sir?" he gasped breathlessly.

"I . . . I-I-I dunno, did ya get some cherry bombs mixed up in that lot 'r somethin'?" I asked, still dazed from the loud noise.

"No sir! And cherry bombs don't make that big a boom anyways; that was more like nearly a full stick of dynamite!"

"BUTTERS!"

I yelped, and both me and Disarray jumped back. Storming out of the chaos, I could see Cartman bearing down on us, dusted in sawdust and snow. "Butters, g&^d*^%%it! Is this your fault?"

"Aw hamburgers," I squeaked. I was about to run away, when I saw that motion again out of the corner of my eye, this time on the roof. When I looked right at it though, nothing was there. Was I seein' things?

Apparently I forgot to run, because the next thing I felt was a large hand clasping the front of my shirt and lifting me clear off the ground. My face was pulled up inches from Eric's furious eyes. This was Eric's favorite way of intimidating anyone smaller than him. Which I think was pretty much everybody. I'm pretty sure he arranged it throughout the day so that he was always scarin' someone like this at some point. Usually me, now that I think about it.

"Oh, uh-uh . . ." I stammered, "Hiya Eric! Uh, sorry 'bout those crackers; I-I don't think those vendors packed 'em quite right-"

"Shut up! Gimme that!" Eric snatched Dougie's - oh, I mean - Disarray's backpack from his startled grip and glanced over the contents. "Lame Black Cats? That's all yah got? Ah can't use this; don't yah have any more of what blew up the tree?"

Disarray made a few attempts to get the bag back. It was a losing battle. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"Wait, what blew up the tree?" I asked. By now the others on the field were walking over, looking curious and/or annoyed. Stan was brushing off some splinters from his coat, and Token was spitting out snow. For some reason Tweek looked untouched, although he was also shaking like my Dad does when he's angry; but he didn't look that angry to me, more like, well, Tweek.

"Yes, what blew up the d$%^ tree, that's what he asked," Craig said, looking annoyed. Next to him, Clyde was coughing still from the debris kicked up. Clyde had bug wings; I wondered if I should say something. You never know what might be a sensitive subject though. Still, it might be worth mentioning; maybe he didn't know about it.

I never got the chance however because then I heard the gunshot. It was a quiet one, but I guess I was already expecting it. Something whizzed through the air right between me and Eric's faces, missing the both of us by inches.

Oh right, the gunner in the tree. Musta jumped off as the tree fell. I think I realized this quite calmly, but calm sure wasn't how my body took it. I threw up my hands. Ya notice people always do that even though the thing they're tryin' to block has already come and gone? Funny that.

My hands connected with Eric's arms.

Ka-_BOOM!_

A chorus of yells - I think one was mine - rang out and I was blown over backwards. Eric fell over too, cursing up a storm. Or at least trying to curse; he did sound rather funny beeping instead. It became a lot less funny though when I saw his arms were burned. Wait . . . did . . . did I do that?

"What the-" Kyle said.

I didn't hear the rest because I had hit the ground. When I did, it exploded too.

Ka-_BOOM!_

More yells, and everyone ran for cover. Disarray grabbed his backpack and jumped up against the building. A few of the other guys made for the storage shed nearby. Kyle and Stan both grabbed Eric and pulled him backwards.

I sat for a moment stunned in an indented crater of cracked concrete. I had no idea what was going on.

[Dude, what the f&^% is going on?] Kenny cried from around the corner of the school building.

Oh good, I wasn't the only one confused. Or wait, was that bad?

Kyle was eying me carefully. "Butters, whatever you do, do _not_ move. Understand?"

"Not move?" I asked, trying to wave away the dust from the busted concrete. "But why not?"

"I'm not positive, but I have a theory," Kyle said. "And if I'm even remotely close to correct, this might be very-"

I interrupted him again with a loud sneeze. I couldn't help it; explosions made things dusty.

Ka-_BOOM!_

That one sent me flying back into the school building, and sent Kyle, Stan and Eric back another few feet. Dougie scattered off somewhere. When I hit the building wall, yet another explosion took that out too.

"G*% f&^%ing d&^**it!" Kyle yelled, scrambling to his feet. Gee, its funny how you never notice how much someone swears till they get beeped a lot. I didn't beep much at all. Although I sure did feel like swearing right now, that's for sure.

I think the other guys were yelling something too, but I couldn't make it out. Every move I made; every step I took, something exploded. They weren't always big explosions, but they still startled me, which made me jump or take another step.

All around me was nuts. The whole side of the school building and half the track now lay in ruins, as well as a few more trees. The guys were jumping for cover every time I looked in their direction, and this was only what I was able to make out from the debris and smoke flying all around me. This was starting to scare me.

"It makes sense!" I thought I heard Kyle say. "I was wondering how Trent came into the cafeteria with explosions when all he could do was make fire!"

"Yeah," Stan yelled as another explosion sounded near my feet. "It must have been when Butters was thrown into the lunchroom. He's a walking g&^d*#$% bomb!"

A . . . a walking bomb? Me?

I felt panic begin to well up. The explosions got louder. The thing that was making them . . . was it really me?

"Someone stop that f%*^ing dumba$$ before he kills us all!" I heard Eric say.

"Butters, stop moving!" Kyle yelled again.

But I couldn't stop. One boom would knock me off balance, or make me jump, or something, and then another boom would happen, and it would start all over again. No matter how I moved, nothing was stopping.

Somehow in the confusion, I still heard the second gunshot. It was the weirdest thing. I didn't see it, I hardly even heard it, but I could _feel_ it. I could practically feel the air distorting as the bullet rapidly closed the distance and hit me clean in the chest.

And then it exploded too.

I stumbled back, more detonations going off at my feet. I had been shot. I had been shot! But . . . I was alive. Even more surprising, I was unhurt. The bullet had completely exploded on impact! I was f*^%ing bulletproof!

However, I also realized that this meant that nothing could touch me. As it was, everything I did make contact with was destroyed instantly. I tried to limit myself to stumbling around just one spot, but even debris I hit was sent flying at incredible speeds and detonated upon impact elsewhere. It was pure chaos incarnate. . . and I couldn't control it at all.

That's when I heard the loudest sound I'd ever heard in my life. It roared over the sounds of all the explosions, all the yelling, all the ringing in my ears. Heck, it was louder than the first boom that took out the tree. If I was chaos, then this sound . . . this was _sound_ incarnate.

"_**BUTTERS, HE SAID STOP MOVING, G&%D*^%$$IT!**_"

I felt my feet leave the ground. I was aware of movement, of air whipping around me, of an intense ringing in my ears. Then everything went black.

And I still don't know if anyone noticed someone was shooting at us.


	8. Chapter 8:  Split

Thanks everyone by the way, for all the cool reviews you've been giving me! It really helps me see that there are those interested in the story and gives me further inspiration to continue. Things are going to start picking up speed hopefully now, as we begin to meet some more villains and even some OCs of mine. What's a superhero league without a supervillain one after all. Should be fun!

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><p><strong>Chapter 8: Split<strong>

_Journal Entry #1: Nov 20 2010_

_ OK apparently I'm supposed to write about my superhero experiences or something? I dunno, I'm not really a writer. I'll give it a shot though, I guess._

_ I thought that having superpowers would be really cool, and I was really looking forwards to it, but I kind of feel like I got the short stick here. Granted, some of us haven't gotten powers yet, like Token or Kenny. And who knows when we will find out about Craig; he could already have some super awesome ability and just hasn't felt like using them yet. It would be really funny if Cartman ended up having worse powers than me, that would show him._

_ G*% this isn't fair! Why couldn't I have dreamed my superpower was to turn into a dragon or something when I was playing this game as a kid? How would I know that stupid costume would come back to haunt me like this? And even worse, I can't even swear about it! I'll take my freedom of speech over this p&%%$ power any day. At least I can vent my frustration on my diary. Hey maybe this is a good idea after all._

_ It gets worse though. Apparently some of the other guys already have enemies. Do ALL of us have to fight them? I don't even know that Trent guy! And what was up with those girls in black? Then, to make it even more crazy, I got the worst phone call . . ._

* * *

><p>I clamped my hands over my ears, but all I succeeded in doing was locking the ringing inside my head. I didn't think I'd ever hear again. First all those booms, then <em>that<em> crazy screech? What the h$%%?

I realized nothing was shaking, so I opened my eyes. All around me was the crumbled mess that had been the storage shed. Tools and sports equipment littered the dirty snow, accented by the occasional chunk of brick wall. The track was a mess, and further back I could see a good chunk of the school wall also gone. You could practically see into the second story, which was awesome but in a freaky way. On more of an upside, it looked like the math department took the brunt of the impact. Yup definitely awesome.

My wings ached. Or, something; it's rather odd to have sensations in limbs you weren't used to having. It was a stupid feeling, but at least it was preferable to being able to see thousands of points of view at once. My brain still hurt from that; why couldn't these f&^%ing bracelets come with instruction manuals?

I slowly stood up so I could see better over the remains of the storage shed wall. I could see the other guys gradually doing the same. Off to the left, I could see a large crater with Butters lying in the center. He looked unconscious. Finally.

What surprised me though was what had knocked him out. I could make out an indented blast that carved a cone-shape into the ground. Standing at the origin, with her hand clapped over her mouth, was Wendy Testaburger.

"Dude," I heard Kyle groan. "Good thing your girlfriend drives like the devil." I noticed Wendy's car up on the curb somewhat behind her.

"That was f*^%ing sweet," his brother said from somewhere under snow.

Stan walked over to her, gawking at the blast on the ground. "Wendy, did you do that?"

"I . . . I think so," she said, tapping her finger on her chin. "I drove my car just over here and saw everything falling apart, and I was wondering why Butters wasn't listening when Kyle told him to stop and -"

The ringing in my ears was getting worse.

"Whoa, stop there," Cartman said, holding up a hand and scrambling to his feet. "Wendy, babe . . . no talking."

She frowned darkly at him. I was confused. "What's wrong with her talking?" I asked.

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Clyde, you dumba&&, look at what she just did."

I joined Wendy in glaring at him. Token piped up. "Dude, we can all see what she did. Not to mention hear it; I think my ears will be ringing for weeks."

"Eh, mine aren't bad," Craig said, stalking off somewhere near the woods. Well duh he didn't have a problem; his hat covers his ears. Kyle also looked like he was shrugging it off and was currently picking his way through the uneven ground over to where Butters still lay. Dougie, Butter's middle school stooge, scrambled after him, still dazed and stumbling. Tweek was already over there somehow, but looked too nervous to touch him.

"Am I really the only one who thinks here?" Cartman asked.

"Shut the h$%% up fata$$, I know what you're getting at," Kyle said.

"Care to fill the rest of us in?" Stan said. "I think Wendy wants to, but she's actually listening to you and has shut up."

Sure enough, Wendy had her hand clamped over her mouth, although she was still glaring at Cartman. A slow grin was spreading on Cartman's face. "Oh now this is rich," he said. "I always knew Wendy was a screecher, but now? It looks like you have to control how you talk from now on, or you may unintentionally blast whoever you're addressing."

Stan looked worriedly at Wendy. "Is this true? You can't talk?"

"Oh, I can talk," she whispered, "But I better keep my emotions cool until I can learn to control my powers better. Which means Cartman better back _**OFF!**_" She yelled the last bit, and Cartman was knocked back on his butt.

"AY! Watch it, b*^%$!" he snapped, scrambling back to his feet.

Wendy ignored him and turned back to Stan. "But evidently I control sound," she whispered.

"More like sound waves," Ike put in. "I think you can probably generate and manipulate them, if the distortions were any indication." He grabbed a stick and began diagramming something on the snow for Wendy to see. Cartman seemed to lose all interest in the conversation, and instead scowled at the burn marks on his arms.

I sat gloomily down on a chunk of wall. All this talk was making me feel stupid, and they weren't even getting that technical. And with another person in our group getting a power, mine was beginning to look lamer and lamer. I glanced at my gossamer wings. Oh well, at least they were pretty. And who knows; maybe they might actually carry my weight; flight would help make this more interesting. I was scared to test it though; I wasn't exactly the smallest kid in the school. I played football regularly and wrestled in the winter. Thin is not the word I'd use to describe me. Husky, now that was pretty good. But would paper-flat bug wings carry a husky boy? For the first time, I wished I was thin like Kenny or smaller like Butters; they could probably fly with these wings really well.

"Butters seems OK," I heard Kyle said. I glanced over to see him taking a pulse. Dougie knelt next to him holding the crumpled remains of Butter's foil hat. He looked at it sadly. Beats me why; it was just a piece of cardboard and foil. I had no idea what the two were trying to do in their lame old costumes, but it seemed to have gone horribly wrong.

"Tweek, push Cartman!" came a voice suddenly from the trees. In a blur of blond and green, Cartman was flattened on the ground with a new slew of beeps. Almost immediately, there was a faint bang and something seemed to whiz through the air, just missing the two of them.

Stan and Wendy spun around. "That was a gunshot!" Stan said.

Sounds came from the woods, sounding like a scuffle. I jumped up, realizing that the fight wasn't that far from where I was. Was the hero stuff starting already? I wasn't ready, I still didn't know how to turn my wings off! Or even back on, come to think of it.

There was a series of yells from the trees, and then the weirdest buzz sound, kind of like a bug zapper. I instantly didn't like it. Then silence.

I inched closer to the trees. "Uh . . . Craig?" I said, guessing it was him who'd sounded the alarm. He'd been heading this direction earlier anyways. "Are you in -"

A black blur launched from the trees and hit me square on. I fell over on my back with a cry, wings flaring out to avoid being crunched. I found myself looking into two brown eyes behind a black mask. "Hello," came a rather high, feminine voice, "Can I have your autograph?"

Wait, what?

"Get off," I heard Craig growl. A moment later the weight on my chest lightened and I could see sky again. Oookaaay, what just happened?

I sat up to see Craig standing just out of the woods, his hand on his arm where his coat was apparantly gashed. Blood was dripping from his fingers. I nearly fainted; I hated the sight of blood.

Off to the side where she could see everyone, crouched a smallish girl dressed completely in black ninja garb. She had black hair with a neon blue streak in it, and her face was covered by a mask.

"Oh great, not another weirdo," I heard Stan mutter.

"Hey!" Cartman stormed up. "No one here is giving out autographs, not unless I start first. Who the h%^^ are you?"

The girl let out a bark of a laugh when Cartman beeped, then immediately became serious again. "Can I have your autograph too then?" she said gravely, like she was asking him to make the ultimate sacrifice or something. Screwball, corner pocket everyone.

Even Cartman looked thrown off by this erratic behavior. He glanced around. "Uh . . .'ey Keynny, is this someone yeh know from the boonies or something?" His eyes fell on a foot sticking out of a lump of snow and debris that was stained red. "Oh g^%d&$$it, not again. F*^$ing useless piece of white trash s&%^."

"You sound funny," the ninja said.

"Shut the f%$^ up."

I blinked. "Wait, did Butters do that. . ."

Stan gasped. "Oh my g*^, he killed Kenny!"

"I'M NOT SAYING IT!" Kyle yelled angrily.

I heard Cartman give a yell. I looked back over to the ninja girl, but she wasn't there anymore. "Hey, where'd she go?" I asked.

"Like Ah know, dumba%%," Cartman growled. "Vanished the moment our backs were turned."

"No she didn't," Craig said, walking down to take a seat on the rubble. "She just jumped into the trees and ran off like a monkey. Now the other girl in black, _she's_ the one who vanished into thin air."

"Wait, another girl?" I asked.

Token grinned. "Nice!"

"No, not nice," Craig said. "That second girl, the one you all DIDN'T see, was shooting at us. I thought I heard something earlier right before Butters when nuts."

"A gun?" Tweek said, frowning. "Why would someone - GAH - why would someone want to shoot at us?"

Craig glared at Cartman. "Why I have no idea, its almost like someone here has given lots of people reasons to want to kill him throughout his life."

Cartman started to fold his arms, then winced and put his hands nonchalantly behind his head instead. "Eh, having enemies is a mark of success in life," he said.

"No it isn't, dumba$$," Kyle snapped.

"What would you know about success, yah penny pinching Jew-tard?"

"I have a 4.0 GPA compared to your 2.6, take that for success, fata##!"

"AY! Ah'm an under appreciated genius, hippie! Like Einstein!"

"No one can under appreciate you, because there's nothing about you to appreciate, lardbutt!"

"G*$D^&$ JEW!"

"FAT B#$&%^$!"

I smirked. You could always count on Kyle and Cartman for some good entertainment.

The sounds of sirens cut in. Everyone perked up. "Split!" Cartman said, and took off into the woods. After a moment's hesitation, everyone else seemed to follow. Kyle and Dougie each got an arm of Butters, and hauled him off. I looked around to see that everyone had gone, then took off into the woods also. No way was I going to be the only one caught hanging around.

* * *

><p>"-And officials are still puzzled as to the nature of the damage," the news reporter said. "Police however are not ready to give out statements just yet, and so far its looking like the repair cost will be nearly a million dollars."<p>

I gaped at the TV. My uneaten frozen dinner sat on my lap. Wow the damage had been that extensive? Well I really shouldn't be that surprised, it was a storage shed, the track, and a good chunk of school building wall that had been hit. But still . . .

"Clyde honey, aren't you hungry?" my mom asked. She checked my dinner. "You haven't touched your food."

"Eh," I said noncommittally, still riveted to the TV. I usually was starving by this time, but tonight I just felt tired. And confused. And worried. And . . . oh all right, fine. I reached over and began automatically shoveling food in my mouth. OK, so I wasn't starving, but neither was I one to turn food down either.

The news report had wrapped up about the mysterious explosion at the school, and was now going over the weather report. Something about snow, cloudy, sun, cloudy, LOTS of snow for Thanksgiving next week, yada yada yada.

I started tuning it out, thinking about what I was going to do now. I still had those d#$% wings; they were currently stuffed under my sweater, but it was uncomfortable. How the h%## was I supposed to make them go away anyways?

"Mom," I said, glancing at the bracelet on my wrist. "How does this thing work?"

"Oh, that?" she replied, glancing over. "Beats me, I got the idea from Mrs. Brofloski. She said she'd heard that they work wonders on children."

Yeah you could say that again.

"So . . . you don't know how they work?"

"Nope! Just slap it on the wrist, and your child should become the perfect son or daughter, that was the guarantee."

I looked at her. "You put something on me and you don't even know how it works? Do you know what its even made of?"

"A metal of some kind?"

Oh my g*%. "Mom!" I cried. "For all you know this thing could be radioactive or something! I mean it can f&%^ing get into my head! I can't even _think_ swearing!"

"Oh really?" she said. "Wow, that little device really does work!"

I slumped on the couch. This was useless. "Is dad still working late?" I asked.

"Yes, you know he's always busy this close to Black Friday. The store has got loads of stock coming in, and he needs to see that its all properly sorted."

So much for trying to talk some sense into him then. I sighed, wondering if the other guys were just as frustrated with their parents. Something wasn't quite right with these bracelets, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

The phone rang and my mom went to answer it. I turned my attention back to the TV.

"-estimates a total of seven hundred thousand dollars was stolen from the bank heist. Luckily, no one was injured, but the suspects got away in an unmarked black mini cooper. They also seem to have taken a hostage, although the identity of the hostage hasn't been confirmed."

Huh, bank robberies and kidnappings were a little more interesting. I watched the camera feed for a bit before gagging on my dinner.

The robbers were gingers. Wow, the odds of that. Even weirder though, they seemed to be led by an extremely foxy girl with black hair with yellow streaks, and dressed in black and gold. She had another girl with her too, one with white hair. As the video played, the second girl seemed to put her hands on the bank vault. Frost started to form on the outside. Then the foxy girl glanced up at the camera and cracked a long whip. The video feed went to static.

What the h%&& was all that about?

"The only clues to the identity of the bank robbers is a playing card left at the scene of the crime," the reporter continued. He held up a queen of spades. It had a large bee painted on the back.

My jaw dropped. I had read comic books, I knew a supervillain calling card when I saw one. There were supervillains in South Park! Augh, not yet, I still didn't have the hang of my powers yet! I didn't even have a costume!

"Clyde?" my mother called. "One of your friends is on the phone."

"Which one?" I asked, slightly annoyed. I didn't want to miss any of this news report.

"Tweek, I think."

I frowned. What could Tweek want this time of night?

Reaching out, I took the phone. "Tweek? The h$&& you calling about?"

"GAH! Clyde, you gotta help me!" I heard Tweek's paranoid voice whipser back over the phone.

"Huh? What now? Speak up, I can barely hear you."

"Shhh!" Silence on the other end. Occasionally I thought I heard some deep rumbling or something. Sorta sounded like a motor maybe?

"Tweek?"

"Oh J*^$%$, where am I . . . where are we going . . ."

"Tweek, what the h%$$ is going on?"

"I don't know! One second I'm at the bank with my dad, then these punks all in black busted in and pointed guns everywhere, then they grabbed me, and now I'm in the trunk of a car, I think!"

What? "What?"

"Clyde, help! I think I've been kidnapped!"


	9. Chapter 9:  Meeting

Had a few errors in the last chapter, they're fixed now so something makes more sense. If you didn't notice, then yay I got away with it.

I like this character. We don't get enough of him in the series. At all. Also, one of my OCs officially makes an entrance. Actually she's not my OC, she's my sisters. I nearly made my fanfiction profile this name cause it was just too cool and would be perfect for a profile name, but then this character would look like a self-insert, and I reeeeeally don't want that. I want the OCs to feel like random people encounters, just like the show has. *crosses fingers*

Also, its kinda nice that not ALL parents in the SP universe blindly follow the crowd, you know? :) If anyone has parents who'd be sympathetic to the kids' plight with these wrist restrictions, I put my money on this set.

. . . Anyone remember the old Static Shock cartoon? I love that show. :D

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9: Meeting<strong>

_Dear Diary,_

_ So. Superpowers. Yeah . . . not really sure what to make of all this. Its like that time when we were kids when we'd pretend to be heroes and all. Oh man, if Cthulhu ends up showing up this time, so help me . . ._

_ Well, I guess my powers are pretty sweet. Kind of annoying how stereotypical they are though. I hate it when Cartman is right about things like that. I mean like, d&%^ dude, we brothas spend our time trying to prove racist punks like him wrong; why's he gotta be so g$%d%#$ right all the time?_

_ . . . Stupid bracelets . . ._

* * *

><p>I sat at the dinner table with my parents, picking through my dessert of blueberry cheesecake. I couldn't stop thinking about the events earlier today. Man, the school property had been a wreck! Would we even have classes on Monday? It was close to the Thanksgiving Holidays, would they even bother with only half a week of school when the whole east face of the building was lacking about half its mass?<p>

"So baby, how was your day?" my mom asked.

"Uh . . ." Oh man, what was I supposed to say to that? "It was . . . interesting."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Cartman started some new uh, club. Yeah. We spent the day hanging out."

"Oh that's great," my dad piped in, looking up from his paper. "Clubs are a great way for young people to hang out. I remember when I was your age, I started a jazz club. Toured all over town too, got pretty good. I still bust out the ol' bass every once and awhile. Can't be losin' the magic, after all."

I rolled my eyes. Well, after years of wondering and never sure if I should even ask, at least the mystery of the white bass guitar in the basement was solved. G&%d&^% Cartman to h%$$.

I frowned. "Dad, is this thing really that necessary?" I asked, holding up my wrist and glaring at the metal band on it.

I saw Dad shoot a look at my Mom, frowning. "I'm not that sold on the idea, but your mother seems to think it will help."

"Its worth a try at least," she said. "And if it doesn't work out, or if it proves to be too bothersome for you Token, we'll let you take it off."

I perked up. "Really?" I asked. If I could have the option of taking it off when I wanted to . . . now that was something I could show the guys. "Can you see if you can take it off now? I mean, just to see if it _does_ come off?"

"Sure baby, let me take a look at it."

I held up my hand for her to inspect, but my cell phone rang. "Oh for . . . sorry Mom, one moment . . ."

I pulled out my iPhone and glared at the screen. Clyde?

"Hey Clyde," I said, putting the phone to my ear. "What's shakin'?"

"Token!" I heard a distressed voice say over the phone. "Get over to Cartman's place fast!"

Oh for crying out loud, now what. "Why?" I asked with a sigh.

"Cause Cartman's called a meeting!"

"Why?"

"Tweek's been kidnapped!"

This took a second to sink in. "Why?" I asked again, unable to think of any other words at the moment.

"Something about a bank heist and he's currently in some car trunk," Clyde said. He sounded close to tears. "Token, I think he's been abducted by supervillains!"

Super_what_? Was he serious? I held up a finger to my mother and stepped out of the room.

"He called me about five minutes ago, but the call dropped," Clyde continued. "I phoned Cartman, and he's called a meeting of Coon and Friends; we all need to meet at his place immediately!"

"Dude . . . I am _not_ going to be called Coon and Friends. We agreed on The Extreme Avenger League. Besides, Cartman doesn't even have powers yet. Does he really what to call himself The Coon if he might end up with the ability to turn into a plant or something?"

"Hm, right, that would be rather silly," Clyde said. "And we did agree on T.E.A.L; wonder why Cartman said Coon and Friends."

"Cause he's an attention whore," I said. "I'm just trying to make sure Cartman doesn't end up running things again. I think when we meet we should all vote on who's going to be in charge; that way maybe we can keep him from automatically assuming control again."

"Oh hey, that's a good idea! No one would vote for him anyways. Maybe we should vote for . . .wait, what am I saying; screw this! We gotta get everyone to Cartman's, and fast!"

"Oh, right."

"Oh, and Cartman said to throw on the coolest things you have to wear. We might not have costumes yet, but that doesn't mean we can't try to look the part with what we've got."

"I thought Tweek was in trouble. Why is he worried about what we're wearing?"

"You're worried about our name and who's in charge!"

"Cause if someone gives Cartman an inch, he'll take the whole freakn' yardstick!"

"OK whatever, just throw some s&%$ on and get over there!" He hung up.

I sighed, heading upstairs to my bedroom. Better throw something on fast so Cartman wouldn't have a conniption. But poor Tweek! How on Earth did he manage to get himself into trouble so fast? Maybe it had something to do with his powers; he might do everything at super speeds, even get himself in over his head.

I threw on a black T-shirt that had ripped-off sleeves and a white skull on it. I added black fingerless biker gloves, a white bandanna to go over my hair, and some white pants with black flames on the bottom. I topped the look off with the darkest pair of sunglasses I had, plus some large gold chains. Looking in the mirror, I thought I looked a bit more like a panda bear passing as a gangster than a superhero, but it would do in the meantime. I yanked a black leather jacket off my coat rack, and dashed down the stairs.

"Mom, Dad, I'm going out for a bit," I yelled towards the dinning room. "Clyde's got some, uh, minor emergency I need to help him with."

"OK baby, try to be back by eleven!" I heard my mother call. Sure Mom, I'll let the supervillains know that I have to be done with our rescue and showdown by curfew; that will go over well.

I headed to the garage and hopped into my dad's old Jaguar. Well technically it was his; but I was the only one who used it. Dad had gotten a newer one when I'd turned sixteen and had tossed me the keys to this one. I didn't mind that it was a hand-me-down; it was a sweet car. And more importantly, it was _fast_.

I arrived at Cartman's in record time, secretly grateful that there were no cops on the roads between our houses. I could already make out a blue Chevy Camaro, a dark gray Toyota Camry, a light green Ford Fusion, an old red Honda Odyssey, and a really battered bicycle all parked around Cartman's black Mercedes SUV. OK, so it looked like Stan, Wendy, Kyle (maybe Ike), Clyde, and Kenny were already here. Oh, Kenny was alive. Again. That . . . was never gonna make sense.

I parked my car and headed to the door, slightly annoyed that I wasn't even close to the first one there. Sure my house was farther away, but come on; Kenny beat me here? On a_ bicycle_?

Cartman's mother answered the door when I knocked. "Oh hello Token," she said. "Eric's downstairs with the others. Would you like a cupcake?"

"Uh, no thanks, Ms. Cartman; I just had dinner." I ducked around her plate of cupcakes and headed downstairs. I could hear Cartman's voice as I arrived.

"-and Ah think we should also invest in a police scanner too, yah know, so we can have access tah police reports and know when we can show up tah save the day."

Cartman was sitting around a table with the other guys who were already there. He had a sheet of paper in front of him that he was scribbling on. He was also dressed up in parts of his old Coon costume; the nose, mask, and claws at least. He'd also thrown on some "tough guy" clothes too. I rolled my eyes. The old Coon look? Seriously?

Cartman looked up as I arrived at the table. "Oh there yah are Token," he said. "About time, Ah was wondering where yah'd broken down in that old Jag of yours."

I glared at him. "Dude, my Jag can take your posh Mercedes any time. The wax you put on it alone would weigh it down."

Cartman waved his hand dismissively, then handed me the paper he'd been scribbling on.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Shopping list," he replied. "Still might add some stuff later, but this is what we'll need tah get our superhero base going."

I looked at the list in surprise. Computer equipment, costume material, security system, cell phones . . . "And, you're giving this to me, why?"

"After today's mission, its your job tah get it all."

I stared at him. "Why?"

He leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes. "Cause you're the rich boy, duh. Its how all superhero groups work; the rich guy supplies the gadgets."

"H$%% no! Get your own computer equipment! Even I can't afford all this; you're looking at thousands of dollars of stuff here!"

"What, you expect Kenny tah be able to afford his own superhero costume and cell phone? He can't even afford a ten speed bike."

"Tell him to keep a job and stop getting his lazy butt fired!"

Kenny, who'd been sitting rather sulkily off to the side (probably bummed at dying for the third time in two days), seemed to take offense at this. [Hey, I get fired 'cause I have juggle both school and a night life; I keep falling asleep at work!]

"Well stop picking up girls then!"

He opened his mouth like he was about to add something else, but sighed and sat back in his chair. I raised an eyebrow; I was pretty sure there was something else he was about to add about what he did, but something held him back. Unlike everyone else, he'd shown up still in his usual clothes, which I guess was unsurprising. He did however, have a backpack that seemed to contain something. Now what was Kenny hiding?

"Token's right, Cartman," Stan said, sighing. "Get your own stuff. I'll be getting mine; I still work part time at the garage."

"Shouldn't we be talking about something else?" Kyle said, sighing.

"Yeah, like what happened to Tweek?" Wendy added. "Seems a little more important than Cartman's Christmas wish list."

Clyde dropped his face in his hands. "It was horrible," he said. "I mean why . . ."

"Why would they do something like this?" I said, sitting down. "I don't know dude, some people are just mean."

"No, not that!" Clyde said. "Why didn't he call the police? Why did he have to call me? Augh, he knows stuff like this freaks me out!"

"Probably cause he panicked, I mean this is Tweek," I said.

"Well, what are we gonna do about it?" Kyle said, sounding annoyed.

"Hey fellas!" I heard behind me. I glanced around to see Butters, Dougie, and an annoyed Craig coming down the stairs. Dougie waved happily at all of us. Butters was glancing around the room, which Cartman had managed to fill with black curtains and fabric to look more secretive. "Wow, it looks like a cave in here!"

"Shut up, Butters," Craig said He was devoid his usual hat, and instead wore yellow colored glasses and a blue jean vest, along with a long, thin bundle strapped to his back. He found a spot of wall he could lean against near the stairs. Butters wore something like his old vampire gang outfit, and it looked just as fake and out of place on him now as it did back then. Dougie just wore a gray jean jacket over his usual buttoned up shirt.

Cartman frowned. "Craig . . . what are these two d*&$%^bags doing here?"

Craig shrugged. "Butters got powers, figured they should come."

"Dude, Butters' powers destroyed the school," Stan said, looking hesitantly over at the clueless blond.

"Oh they did? Oh geez, I'm sorry fellas . . ." Butters said, looking worried. "I-I tried to stop, but I couldn't . . . I couldn't control it!"

"And yah brought this walking bomb into mah _house_?" Cartman said.

Craig smirked. "I don't like getting interrupted when I'm eating."

Ohhh. I hid my smile behind my hand. I heard Clyde give a snicker.

"D*$& you Craig. D*$& you clear to the seventh layer of h$%%," Cartman growled.

"Oh go easy on him, Butters just needs to learn to control it," Wendy said, still talking somewhat quieter than normal. "Now that the initial shock of it all has worn off, he can probably do a little better."

"I-I'll sure try," Butters said, knocking his knuckles. "I wanna help Tweek too, he's nice 'n all."

"I want to help also," Dougie said.

"AUGH!" Cartman yelled. "This isn't a f*%&ing game anymore, yah two! We're going after supervillains!"

Butters grinned. "Then you'll need a supervillain to help ya!"

Cartman barked out a laugh. Everyone else sorta glanced around avoiding eye contact. Yeah, Butters, a real supervillain . . . right.

"Look," I said, trying to get the subject back on track yet again, "Should all of us even be going on this trip? I mean, not all of us have powers."

"Eh those who don't will get them as we go," Cartman said.

I looked at him. "Dude, you're one of those without powers."

"Ah do so have powers!" he said defensively. "Ah just . . . haven't had the need tah use them yet!"

"Uh huh, sure," Kyle said. "What's your power then, eating snack food with no need to stop? Gaining weight faster than a speeding bullet?"

Cartman rounded on him. "No, its being able tah punch your wise-cracking Jew _face_ in!"

Oh for- we didn't have time for yet another of their fights. "Dude, I don't have a power either!" I said. "What am I supposed to do here?"

Cartman sighed heavily, as though he was having to deal with really stupid people. I hated that sigh, it usually meant something racist was coming up. "Token," he said, "Of course yah have a power."

"Oh yeah?" I said suspiciously. "What?"

"Dude, look at sports," he said. "Football, wrestling, boxing. The strongest people in the world are blacks and Russians. H$%%, see the Rocky movies."

I glared at him. "Dude!" I said. "Blacks can have more powers than super strength! John Stewart's a Lantern! Static Shock has electricity!"

"Yeah well, we don't have a magic green lamp, and Ike's already dibbed the lightning stuff!" Cartman shot back. "Go ahead, see if yah can pick up this table with one hand!"

"H*$$ no! Name one black person with super strength!"

Cartman looked me right in the eye. "Muhammad Ali."

I strained for a comeback. "G*$ d&%%it Cartman," I said, then stood up. I'd show him. I grabbed the table edge with one hand. See, no way I could . . . lift . . .

Everyone around me gasped as I raised the table effortlessly over their heads with only one hand. Butters gave a whoop. I blinked in surprise. I didn't even feel like I was straining. "D*%$ you Cartman," I said, sighing. I hated, _hated _it when he was right. It was just not fair.

However . . . superhuman strength? Hard to see a downside in that. I tossed the table in my hand a few times, then set it back on the ground. I could get used to this, sure.

"I don't get it," Kyle said, frowning. "How come everyone keeps getting powers when you point them out, Cartman?"

"My dear Jew," Cartman said, sitting back in his chair, "I just point out the obvious. Maybe someday, if you try, you'll get as smart as me."

"DIE!" Kyle tackled Cartman out of his chair, and they went rolling. I silently rooted for Kyle; Cartman was easily twice his size and had way more muscle, but what Kyle lacked in mass he more than made up for with violent redheaded ferocity.

Stan sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as the scuffle raged, both participants swearing up a storm of bleeps at each other. "Can we please just get on with this?" he said. "I want to get to bed soon; I have work tomorrow and we haven't even figured out where Tweek is!

"I know where he is!" a cheerful voice piped up.

"Oh really?" Stan said. "Where?"

"I'll tell you if you give me your autograph."

"What?"

We all spun around. Sitting under the stairs was a girl with black and blue hair, and a black ninja outfit.

"You!" Clyde said, jumping up.

Craig actually looked surprised, probably because she'd been within five feet of him and he hadn't noticed. "What do you want?" he asked.

"I just said. Autograph." The girl held up a fat, black leather bound book.

"I think 'who are you' is a better question at the moment anyways," Wendy said.

The girl walked out from under the stairs and positioned herself in the corner, arms folded. She looked both interested and wary. "Name's Phantom Fan," she said. "And I can tell you where your friend is."

We all exchanged looks. "Uh, what?" I said.

"My name's-"

"Shut up, we got that part," Cartman snapped. "How'd yah get in mah basement?"

She looked around. "How? Hardly a challenge. I've gotten into way harder. Ever try to break into Obama's house during the campaign? Now that was fun."

OK this girl was officially crazy. I could see Ike twirling his finger around his head, and Kyle nodding.

"I collect autographs," she continued. "Actors, politicians, musicians, mob bosses, artists, firemen, military, royalty, terrorists . . . you name it, I can get it." She smiled proudly, her dark eyes twinkling behind her mask.

We all glanced at each other again. I don't think any of us quite knew what to make of this girl. I could see Kyle looking hard at her, probably trying to make out her intentions with his powers. But in the end, even all he could do was shrug.

"If you know where our friend is, can you take us to him?" Stan asked.

"Sure, but you might want to stop your squabbling and get moving," she said.

"Why?"

"Because they'll probably kill him any moment now."


	10. Chapter 10:  The Beehive

Another big hug to all those who are leaving reviews! You really give me motivation. :D

More OCs in this chapter. This gang actually originated as a group of fangirls that were driving the main boys crazy. My sis and I like to toss around a lot of ideas. Anyways, they evolved from being simple annoyances to us wondering what they'd be like with powers, and then I got ideas with how the plot will turn out, and yeah . . . now they're a villain gang. I'd go into more detail as to why, but if I told you more about the plot before I write it, I may have to kill you. :D Or, well, put myself in the corner at least; I need to learn to shut my spoiler mouth.

This character was one of the most fun to write so far. Again, another person who I think the series has been woefully neglectful of late. He's freakn' hilarious, man! Why does he not get more screen time? I sure hope they don't off him like they did Pip, that was sad.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10: The Beehive<strong>

_Dear Diary,_

_ I've never written in one of these before, man! What am I supposed to do? Do I record everything that happened today? Or do I try to summarize everything that's happened to me up till now? Or do I try to guess what will happen? Or maybe I'm supposed to say some wise quote or something that will inspire whoever reads this? Oh J&$%$, I sure hope no one reads this. OH NO, I EVEN WRITE BEEPS! These bracelets are messing with my _mind_, man! Wait, Cartman said we might be able to sell the movie rights for these diaries. That means people really _will_ read it! What if they don't like it? What if they take offense to something? What if I get sued? Oh G#$, I can't afford a million dollar settlement! I'd lose everything! I might not even be able to afford college! I'll end up spending the rest of my life living in a box and wearing ratty old clothes from Good Will and doing menial minimum wage jobs and putting every penny I have towards paying off the lawsuit that ruined my life! I'll never get a girlfriend that way! Or even worse, what if this does become a movie? What if we get super-popular and we need to hire bodyguards to keep away the fans? What if I get a stalker? Oh G*$, stalkers are scary! What if she won't leave me alone? What if she would rather kill me than have me live life without her? I don't wanna die! And I sure as h#$$ don't want to marry her!_

_ Oh dear sweet J#$%$, I can't do this journal thing. This is waaay too much pressure, man. Why did I ever let Cartman talk me into this? Why can't I be more like Craig? I bet _he's_ not writing a journal, so he won't get a stalker. Actually, after today, I'd kinda feel sorry for anyone that does stalk him, to be honest . . ._

* * *

><p>"Clyde? <em>Clyde<em>?"

The phone in my ear gave a cheerful little chime of notes, indicating a dropped call. Why did the cell phone companies have to make that sound so happy? It wasn't happy at all! Devil take this middle-of-nowhere town; it was impossible to get any decent reception outside five miles from city hall.

I froze as that thought gave way to a new realization. I'd lost the call . . . meaning we were no longer in the main town of South Park. We were heading into the mountains. But which way? Were we just going through the roads on the way to another town? Or were we heading deeper into the actual woods? I knew of only one reason a getaway car would head to the woods if it had a hostage on board.

I began frantically hitting buttons on my phone, desperate to get some sort of signal. The phone however, refused to acknowledge my desperation, and instead began beeping the "low battery" light at me. Low battery. Seriously? Oh G*%!

The road was getting bumpy. Bad sign. Definitely more off the beaten path, which meant further up mountain dirt roads and further away from civilization. Oh J$%&%, we really were heading to the woods! They were gonna kill me! Probably dump my body somewhere in a ditch where the coming winter snow would bury it till summer thaw, and even then there was no guarantee anyone would ever find it.

I put my head in my hands, trying to fight off a full-blown panic attack. Already my breathing was becoming quicker and shallower. To make matters worse, I was stuck in the trunk of a mini-cooper. Those were not exactly big cars, and their trunks weren't where the manufacturers put a lot of emphasis in space. I was scrunched up with my knees nearly to my ears, lying on my side. While I was fighting my phone I didn't notice so much, but now that I had nothing but my paranoia to keep me company, I realized just how cramped my current space was.

I added claustrophobia to my mental check list of fears. I'd always suspected that was a big one, but up till now I had really tried to avoid any situation that might confirm it.

"AAUGH!" I screamed, unable to take the confines of the trunk anymore. "LET ME OUT!" I began banging as hard as I could on the trunk, which wasn't too easy because I didn't have much windup room. However, I did have speed. I began to beat on the trunk so fast it came off sounding like a helicopter. I could feel the car shaking to my pounding. I didn't care; I just needed out fast. Were the walls closing in? I swear the walls were closing in. Oh sweet J$#%#, I was going to be crushed to death!

"I GOTTA GET OUT!" I yelled, still hammering the trunk. "PLEASE - GAH - FOR THE LOVE OF G$#, LET ME-"

The trunk popped open. I blinked in the brightness of the last rays of sunset, which were pretty bright when compared to a pitch-dark trunk. Oh hey, when did the car stop?

Looking down at me with a look of extreme annoyance, was a girl with short, strawberry-blond hair. "G&$, you're loud," she said, a tone of irritation in her voice. She beeped? Must have a bracelet also. J#$%$, what kind of band of punks would put themselves through that annoyance?

Another girl joined the first one. This one had flaming red hair and looked rather pretty. "Oh, you bagged a cute one," she said. "I've always had a thing for blonds."

The girl with the spiky strawberry hair rolled her eyes. "Oh please, this one's an invertebrate. You could hear his lack of a spine from the way he pounded on the trunk."

"Hey!" I said, feeling slightly annoyed. It was bad enough to get kidnapped by what was now appearing to be a bunch of girls (gah, why girls?), but to be insulted on top of it? Even I had my limits. "Who are you two anyways? You weren't in the getaway car."

"Nope," Strawberry said, grinning. "We're just here at the meeting spot. We hit another location."

I blinked. "Another location? GAH! What did you steal?"

Redhead held up a pistol. "Oh, just some 'crutches' for Checkmate's gang; those boys need to be useful somehow."

"B*$%^, watch where you're pointing that," Strawberry said irritated. She snatched the pistol and tossed it off to the side. I heard the clatter of metal on metal; they must have more weapons in some crate or bag or something. Man, what had I gotten myself into?

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, panic rising. "What do you need me for?"

"You're an inquisitive one," I heard a deep feminine voice say off to the side. "Girls, bring him out here, I apparently need to have a talk with this one in order to satisfy his . . . curiosity."

I reeeeally did not like how she said that. Strawberry leaned in and much to my surprise, hefted me out like I was a sack of flour. Ack! On a second look, she was in pretty good physical condition, and I wasn't just talking attractive either. I think she could have laid me flat with one punch.

If she could hit me. They didn't know it yet, but I had an ace up my sleeve. I was thinking a little more clearly now that I was out of the trunk, but it still took all my courage to keep from bolting right on the spot. If I was going to be held hostage, I should at least find out as much as I can from these people. Cause if what I saw that white haired girl do was true . . . they had powers also.

Strawberry dumped me unceremoniously on the ground. "OOF!" Ow, gentle she wasn't. My hands were tied, but they were in front of me, so I could right myself up. "That hurt!"

"Bite me," she said.

I finally got a good look at my surroundings. We were definitely in the woods, on a dirt road. The sun was already gone behind another mountain, and light was fading fast. On either side of me stood Strawberry and Redhead, but other girls stood next to them, forming a circle. In front of me at the head, stood the tall black and yellow haired girl from the bank vault heist, with the white haired girl next to her.

The raven girl smiled. "Welcome, inquisitive hostage. I am Queen B. And this, is my Beehive." She gestured around her to the other girls.

"Oh are we doing introductions?" a brunette asked. "Should we use our real names or our code names?"

"Codenames, dumba##!" Strawberry said. "Like we'd give our names to a complete stranger after we robbed banks and s$%#? G$#!"

Queen B gave a faint roll of her eyes. "Please excuse the lack of professionalism," she sighed. "Some of us are um . . . new recruits."

I looked around. Everyone in the circle were girls. This would have been nerve-racking enough without knowing that they all might be hiding powers and I was their prisoner. Oh J#$%$, what did they want with me? Were they going to kill me? Or was I going to find that to be the preferable option?

"If I might be so bold as to ask a question . . ." I heard a quiet voice say behind me. I gave a yelp and leapt up to my feet. Strawberry grabbed my arm as I came up, so I stopped myself from running. Oh right, had to find out more about this gang.

I glanced around as yet another girl walked out of the shadows and into the circle. She was dressed entirely in black, and looked like a textbook ninja chick. Except she looked African American, and not Asian. She eyed me warily.

"You may speak, Ninja," Queen B said.

Ninja? That was her codename? Seriously? My opinion of her dropped a notch.

"Why," Ninja said, "Did you even bring this boy here?"

Was her name really Ninja?

Queen B gave a toss of her long black hair. "The police in this town are fools. I figured a hostage would throw them off; I doubt any of them have ever dealt with a hostage situation like this in such a small town."

I gaped at her. Has she even _been_ to South Park? I counted myself lucky they didn't just open fire on all of us, hostage included! And why was that black girl calling herself something as self explanatory as Ninja?

"Besides," Queen B smirked at me, "He doesn't look that hard to handle. And who knows, we might not have to get rid of him _right_ away . . ."

I saw smirks ripple through the circle. OK I think I'd found out all I wanted to know from this bunch. Panic levels were reaching critical mass; it was beyond time to go.

I frantically twisted my arms around and broke Strawberry's grip. "HEY!" I heard her yell, but there was no way she was fast enough to catch me. No way anyone would catch me now. The moment her hand left my wrist, I was running. The idea of super powers made me nervous, but I did have to admit; it felt _awesome_ to run this fast.

And then I suddenly wasn't.

"OOF!" I ran headfirst into a tree. OW. I collapsed on the ground, hands clutching a bloody nose. What the h#$$ just happened? I was running, but my super speed only lasted a split second. Then I had gone back to normal speed. Normal speed? What on earth was going on? I thought I had super powers!

I heard some weird crack/buzz sound, like a bug zapper. Then a masked face loomed over me. "Well, that got you far, didn't it, Jitterbug?"

I could only blink in response, still dazed from my collision with the tree. Wait, what was Ninja doing here? How did she get here so fast? I'd only had my speed on for a second, but it probably had been enough to at least get me some sort of distance away. Why was she here? And why, for all that was holy, did she call herself Ninja?

I got my answer to the first question when she grabbed my shirt. I heard that weird buzz sound again, and all around me there was a flash of what might have been dark light; it was hard to tell. Next I knew though, I was lying down in the middle of the Beehive circle again.

My jaw dropped. This girl could teleport! And my powers had stopped working! I was in serious trouble!

"Welcome back," Queen B said. She looked rather annoyed. "I admit, you nearly surprised me there; I had to block you before you left my range."

Block?

Queen B lifted her wrist, and I could see the familiar bracelet on it. She smirked. Oh no, no way . . .

"I was trying to tell you," Ninja said, "That I've seen this boy before. I wasn't asking why you took a hostage, I was asking why you took this particular person as a hostage. I wouldn't treat him lightly; he's part of that group that Checkmate hired us to hit, you know."

Queen B raised an eye. "Part of that group with Eric Cartman, that guy you failed to assassinate, you mean?"

Ninja growled. "Like I could predict them having a walking bomb. I couldn't even shoot him, he seemed immune. Plus, an old friend showed up." She folded her arms and gave off a general air of sulk.

OK this was getting too much. I vaguely recalled Craig saying that there had been a gunman present earlier, and that she'd disappeared, but was this really her? Why was she trying to kill us? What did they have against Eric Cartman? Who the h$%% was this Checkmate people kept mentioning? And why Ninja?

I raised my hand timidly. "Uh - GAH - can I ask a question?"

Queen B shrugged. "All right, Speedy."

"Tweek, actually, not Speedy."

She blinked. "Tweak? That's your codename?"

I frowned. "No, its my real name."

"Your real name."

"Yes, Tweek Tweak is my name."

"You're name is Tweak . . . Tweak? Two Tweaks?"

"Yes, but one with two e's - GAH - and the other with an e and an a."

She drummed her fingers on her hip, an incredulous expression on her face. "You're seriously telling me your name is Tweek Tweak."

I glanced around me, confused at the puzzed and/or amused expressions on the girls' faces. "Yeah, why?"

"Your name . . . your given, Christian name, is Tweek, and your family name is Tweak? That is really your name?"

I shrugged. "Well, is her name really Ninja?" I asked, gesturing to the girl in black.

I heard Strawberry snort. I glanced back to see her struggling to stifle a laugh. Ninja growled again.

These girls were insane! How was I going to get out of here?"

"State your question, uh, Tweek," Queen B sighed.

"What are you - GAH - going to do with me?" My voice wavered as I asked it. I couldn't help it, my imagination had plenty of possible answers they could give me, and each was worse than the one before.

Queen B tapped her chin. "Well, I was going to suggest we keep you around a bit for fun, but . . ." she glanced at Ninja. "Apparently you might end up more trouble than you're worth. Icicle?"

The white haired girl stepped forwards. "Yes, my lady?" she asked.

Icicle? First Ninja, now Icicle? Did any of these girls have any originality at all?

Queen B smirked. "I hear it gets rather cold up here in these mountains after dark. Little boys out on their own run the risk of freezing to death, don't they, Ice?"

Icicle/Ice/Frozen-Water-Lady looked from Queen B to me. Then she smiled. It was a real smile, one that wasn't cocky or forced. Instead of being openly sinister, it seemed to hint at genuine enjoyment, and yet none of the enjoyment seemed to reach any other part of her face. It was the single most creepy smile I'd ever _ever_ seen. I could tell some of the girls in this circle weren't exactly used to a gang lifestyle, and some I really doubt could do much more than bluff. But I could see it in this girl's eyes; there was no mercy ever in there. This gang might have its wannabes, but here there was an already established cold-blooded killer.

I changed my mind. Icicle was a great name for her.

She strode forwards, breath coming out in cold clouds. Her hands began to frost up. I looked around the circle in a panic. Ninja was stepping back. Redhead folded her arms, smirking. Strawberry, surprisingly, was frowning and looking elsewhere, but wasn't moving. All around the circle, either the girls looked on or the averted their eyes. Only one looked directly at me, eyes wide with growing horror as she also seemed to realize what was about to happen.

Odd, this girl looked familiar. Where had I seen her before? It was hard to place; she had very little of her face showing due to being obscured by the hood of a pink parka. I opened my mouth to ask, but I heard a faint noise.

Queen B frowned. "What's that sound?" she asked.

"Sounds like an engine," Redhead said.

"Sounds like its getting closer fast," Ninja said. She crouched low, and with a zap, had disappeared.

None too soon either. With a loud roar, a motorcycle came flying over a hill on the road. The Beehive circle scattered as the bike crashed right in their midst. Icicle slammed her hand on the ground, and a frozen wall started to form in front of her, but she wasn't fast enough. The crazy driver of the motorcycle pulled his bike up in a wheelie, then brought it ramming down on the forming wall. Both Ice and chunks of ice went flying in all directions. The cycle then skidded to a halt right in front of me.

I gaped at the midnight blue motorbike. I knew that bike!

Its rider dismounted. He wore a blue jean vest with a gold shirt and black pants. He centered a pair of yellow glasses on his nose, and reached to his back where there was a long package secured. Raising a flap of fabric, he pulled out a long, silvery katana sword and pointed it at the girl gang. Then he flipped them off with his free hand.

"You," Craig said, voice dripping with irritation, "Are making me miss my TV show."


	11. Chapter 11:  Face Off

This is my 3rd favorite character. You might be able to tell by how freakn' awesome I write him to be . . .

BTW, Lord Ignus had left a review earlier that had listed all the powers revealed so far, so I thought I'd do the same. I'll do it once more when we find out what the last few powers are. So if this is the first chapter you're reading, two things. One, you will get spoilers. Two, what is wrong with you? O_o

Stan: Technopath  
>Kyle: Psychic<br>Wendy: Sonic Manipulation  
>Butters: Kinetic Energy Manipulation (manifest in the form of explosions)<br>Tweek: Super Speed  
>Clyde: Skinwalker (shifts into a mosquitoish human or a swarm of regular sized mosquitoes; so far can't turn off human mosquito form)<br>Token: Super Strength  
>Ike: ElectromagnetismElectricity  
>Bebe: Shapeshifter<br>Cartman: N/A (to his increasing annoyance)  
>Kenny: NA (no, his immortality is something completely different lol)  
>Craig: NA (and he'd kinda prefer to stay that way to be honest)  
>Dougie: NA (lol like I'd give his boss powers and not him)

Trent: Fire  
>Queen B: Power Jammer<br>Icicle: Ice/Cold  
>Ninja: Teleportation<br>Checkmate: ?

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><p><strong>Chapter 11: Face Off<strong>

_Journal:_

_ This is retarded, I'm not doing it, f%#$ you Cartman._

* * *

><p>In front of me, there looked to be a group of about a dozen girls, all with varying levels of surprise etched on their faces. Some were starting to look angry. I bet none of them were as p*$$ed off as I was though. This was a grand waste of my time, and for what? So I could bail out my clueless friend from a bunch of Charlie's Angels wannabes? G&amp;$d%$$it.<p>

"Craig!" I heard Tweek yelp beside me. "GAH - what are you doing here?"

Seriously?

I looked at him. "What am _I_ doing here? What are_ you_ doing here? Dumb#$$, why haven't you run away yet?"

"That would be my doing," a feminine voice said. I looked up to see one of the b*%$&^$ step forwards, one with a black and yellow theme to her look. "My name is Queen B, and this is my-"

"Don't know, don't care," I said, and swung my sword. I was mildly surprised when she actually dodged the blow and back-flipped out of the way. D*%& it, some had skills. I was really hoping this would be fast, _Breaking Bad_ was starting.

"Got a live one here," a girl with short strawberry blonde hair said, grinning. She punched her fist into her hand. "Want me to take this one?"  
>"No," a white haired girl said, standing up. "This one is mine." Oh, the ice girl I'd knocked over. Fine then, whatever.<p>

I spun around, whipping my sword through the air, and sliced the ropes that were tying Tweek's hands together. The p&$$% gave a startled yelp and jumped back. "J&$%$ Craig, GAH, warn me next time!"

"Just get the h&$$ out of here, I'll distract Albino here."

"No! She's scary, man! She'll kill you! And besides, I can't run!"

"Indeed he can't," the girl called Queen B said, smirking. "See, my own power enables me-"

"_Still_ don't care!" I snapped, lunging forwards. The albino girl waved her hand in surprise, forming an icicle spear. It didn't last long; my first swing sliced it in half, and my next landed the hilt of my sword in her stomach. She staggered back, doubled over and coughing.

"-to block the powers of others. So he cannot run, and now you cannot use your powers!" Queen B finished yelling.

"Might be a problem . . . if I had any," I muttered. I glanced back to see Tweek still standing there. Oh for . . . "Tweek, I said RUN!" I said.

"But I can't-"

"To h$%% with super speed, just plain run, you retard!"

He gave another yelp and started to run, but by now other girls were moving in. The girl with short strawberry hair was already in his way. I sighed heavily and swung my sword, slicing in half a large icicle that was thrown at me. Looks like we'd have to fight our way out then. Fine, may as well get it over with.

I leapt to the side and promptly knocked out two girls flanking Tweek with the flat of my blade. Dodging another shot of ice from the albino, I leaped over another girl and smacked the strawberry blond on the head with my hilt. Before she could even react, I flipped over her to block yet another shot from the albino.

Strawberry started cursing a slew of morse code, but didn't go down. Tough one, d*$% it.

"Oh would someone just stop that punk?" Queen B said, looking really irritated. "He doesn't have powers, how hard can it be?"

"Doesn't have powers, but the b*#$%^$& has skills, d%##it," Strawberry growled.

"Yeah, where did you - GAH - learn to do that, Craig?"

I rolled my eyes. "Dude, like I'm gonna have a real samurai katana in my house and not learn to use it. Now shut up and help if you're not going to run!"

The girls were now surrounding us. I was starting to wonder if maybe I had gotten myself in over my head. So far only one girl was using her powers on us, two if you counted Queen B. But who knows what some of the other girls were capable of.

As I was thinking it, a girl with bright red hair came and stood next to the albino. "Perhaps you need some backup, Icicle?" she asked, smirking.

Icicle, or whatever, scowled. "I don't need any help, Caldera. Go-"

What exactly Caldera was supposed to do was interrupted however by my Kawasaki Ninja bike. To my utter shock, it suddenly roared to life and slammed right into the two of them, knocking them over. It then zoomed around the girls, making them jump for cover, and finally stopped further up the road.

Standing there was Stan, hand up and irises in his eyes glowing blue. It might have been impressive had he not just taken over my motorcycle.

"STAN you b$%^&%$#!" I yelled. "Hands off my Ninja!"

"Was the biggest electronic thing around, and serves you right for running ahead," he said, looking annoyed. "Besides, my hands _are_ off the bike, dumba%%." Sure enough, he instead had one hand on a power drill, and the other held up with blue lines jagging over it, controlling my motorcycle. From several feet away. I really hated him. The last thing I wanted was to be flashily bailed out by the very person everyone kept comparing me to, and with my own bike at that.

"Bite me if I didn't want to stand back debating over how to make our 'cool entrance'," I said, irritated.

Around him, the rest of the gang was forming. Cartman, shooting a withering look at Stan, probably for making the grand reveal without him, managed to shove himself to the front. "All right, girls!" he announced. "Let them go, or face the wrath of Coon and Friends!"

"The Extreme Avenger League!" Token said, glaring at him.

"Oh now what . . ." Queen B growled.

"Ooo, they brought friends!" Strawberry said. "Sweet, this might actually be worth my evening!"

I opened my mouth to shoot something withering back at my useless classmates, but Icicle had suddenly lunged at me. I slashed in half the frozen sword she swung, but it reformed almost instantly and slashed my arm. Oh for - not again.

I paused, glancing at the gash on my arm. That was exactly where I had been hit by that gunlady earlier in our scuffle when I'd spied her in the woods. But why did I only have one cut?

I got slashed on the other arm. "G%$&^##it," I growled, pulling up my sword. The albino was coming at me hard now, swinging her own sword rapid fast. I matched her pace, but it was really annoying when she could manipulate her blade. Every time I sliced it, she would reform it almost instantaneously, and by then it would be beyond my guard. I got another deep gash when it froze up again directly into my shoulder. Swearing (or beeping, d&%$ bracelet), I landed a shot of my own while she was pulling her blade away. I slashed her diagnally across the stomach.

"Whoa!" I heard Ike, Kyle's annoying little brother, yell. "Kyle, your friend is totally gonna kill her!"

Eh, if that was what it took to get her off my back. But I saw her smile. Her sword collapsed into water, and instead she herself began to freeze over. Ice crept all around her, encasing her in a crystalline structure.

I don't know what she was doing, but I sure wasn't gonna stand there like an idiot and let her do it. I lunged forwards, sword point first.

The redhead stepped in the way.

I felt a blast of heat, and immediately leaped back. None too soon either. I had nearly run right into a furnace! The redhead had completely changed. Her skin had gone all black and glowing red. Her eyes were like deep fire. What looked like molten lava began to drip from her fingers. I could just feel the heat coming off of her.

"Hey cut that out," I heard Icicle say. "Take that heat somewhere else, its messing with my regen."

Smirking, the lava girl (Caldera, I think someone had called her) stepped closer to me, forcing me back. She was still eying me carefully. I frowned back; this one was going to be a problem. I sure couldn't get close to her, and thinking back, I wasn't sure anyone else in my group could also.

My mistake.

Caldera was sent flying by an explosion. With a yelp, she hit the ground rolling, leaving a trail of red hot gravel and dirt on the road. She scrambled back to her feet and faced her attacker.

Butters . . . f&$%ing _Butters_ of all people, stood across from her, with that geeky sidekick of his. Butters had attached some weird dart launchers to his wrists and was pointing them at the lava girl. He was biting his lip nervously, but was standing his ground. "Hey fellas," he said, voice shaking a little, "I-I think I'd better . . . better take this one." He fired another dart, and it exploded upon impact at Caldera's feet, making her jump back again.

"Uh . . . sure Butters, good luck," Stan said, hesitantly. He and the others turned to face the rest of the girl gang.

"I'd like to see how well you all fight without your powers," Queen B said. "After all, I, Queen B, can-"

She was cut off by being slammed into by Cartman, and hit the ground practically screaming in frustration. I raised an eyebrow; there was a reason Cartman was regarded as the best linebacker on the football team; he was like a fast moving wall.

"Lets see how many you can block when you're busy, Queenie," Cartman said with a smirk. "Oh, I'm sorry; what were you saying? The Coon is awesome? Why, pleased to meet you too!"

Queen B growled, pulling out two long whips that had been wrapped around her waist. She gave them a crack. "OK tough guy, lets dance."

Cartman flashed his coon claws. "You seem upset; I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

She let out a shriek and charged.

I turned my attention from them to glance around. All around me the guys were taking on girls. Well, girl on girl, in the case of Wendy and some brunette with wind powers. Tweek was facing off nervously with Strawberry, who looked like a cat playing with her prey. Butters and Caldera were throwing lava and bombs at each other, both looking a little nervously over at the woods nearby and trying to avoid catching anything on fire. Stan and Kyle were getting martial arts on some other girls' butts; about time they found an outlet for those karate classes. Everyone else had found someone to fight also. Except Clyde, who couldn't seem to get any girl to take him and his gay fairy wings seriously enough for a scuffle. He finally threw his hands up in resignation and moved to help Tweek.

I glanced back towards my opponent and got a surprise. She had completely iced over. No, not iced over. She had turned _into_ ice. Transparent and everything. It was . . . a little weird.

I sighed. G&$%#&&it, I was never going to have a nice normal life, was I?

She smirked at me. "Good bye," she said.

I frowned. What was that supposed to-

I heard a weird zap sound. Sharp searing pain shot through my side. Holy s&$% it hurt! I jumped to the side, biting my lip to keep from yelling. I could feel a warmness running down my side. When I put my hand there it came away red. What the . . .

I looked behind where I was standing. There was that black ninja girl from earlier, the gunlady. She had a knife in her hands and the blade was red. Hey . . . did she stab me? She totally snuck up behind and shanked me, that f%$^ing b*&$#!

Between the stab and the three slashes, I was getting really p*$$ed off now. But I was also slowing down. Augh this was ridiculous! All I wanted to do was get home quickly to watch TV, was that too much to ask? Why did life in South Park always have to be so d&%^ annoying?

The ninja lady took a step forwards. To the side, I saw Icicle form her whole arm into a blade and also moved forwards.

OK I admit it; maybe I was in trouble.

A shadowy figure moved, and then the ninja was gone. I blinked. What had just happened?

I looked around and located the fight. The ninja girl was tangling with a figure in purple. After a few exchanges of knives and punches, they leaped apart.

I recognized the costume of the second figure. Oh you have got to be kidding me.

He wore a dark purple cape with a hood and a light purple leotard. A black mask obstructed most of his face, and a green question mark hung on the hood. I could even make out a wisp of golden hair.

So that is what Kenny had in his backpack. For the love of g&% . . .

"AY KEYNNEY!" I heard Cartman yell. "No fair getting in costume when the rest of us don't even have one!"

"Shut up, fata$$!" Kenny yelled. "I'm not Kenny, I'm Mysterion! I've _always_ been Mysterion! G&$!" He blocked a few punches from the ninja girl and jumped back. "What do you think I've been doing at night for the past six years?"

"Getting high and laid?" Clyde said.

"No!" Kenny yelled, although I thought I caught a wistful look in his eye. "I've been fighting the criminal element! And you're all blowing my secret identity!"

"Pffft," the ninja girl said, waving her hand. "We know who you all are anyways."

Kenny paused. "You do?"

"Of course," Queen B said, cracking a whip at Cartman. "We got it all from Checkmate, after all."

Kenny rounded on her. "Checkmate? You're in league with him?"

"Sure his goons helped us out at the bank."

Cartman raised his arm and let her whip wrap around it. He then gripped it and pulled back, which caused Queen B to stumble towards him. He caught her neck in his hand. "OK b*%$^," he said, smirking. "Spill the beans. If Checkmate knows who we are, _I_ want to know who _he_ is."

Queen B just smiled. "Why don't you ask Mysterion? I bet he's figured it out already." She gave her whip a flick and electricity surged down its length. Cartman let out a yell and released his grip. She then reached up, grabbed his head and pulled him into a kiss.

Ew, what? What girl would willingly kiss _Cartman_of all people?

"Wow, she's brave," I heard Butters say nervously.

The reason became clear though as Cartman seemed to seize up and collapse on the floor. "Augh!" he gasped. "You Queen B*%$&, what . . .

"Poison lipstick," she said, tapping her lips. "Something of my own design. My powers aren't very offense based, so I find other ways to take down opponents."

Cartman began muttering a slew of beeps.

I would have taken the time to find this extremely funny, except I was rather busy while all this was going on. Ice lady had attacked me again, and it was all I could do to keep her from slicing me in half. For some reason she was a lot faster in this form. I could also sense however that she was tiring faster, so if I could just hold out for a little longer . . .

I stumbled, only managing to stay on my own feet because I used my sword for support. D&$$it, I wasn't going to last much longer either. This was supposed to be a fast fight! What was these girls' problem anyways?

"Stan, Craig's in trouble!" I heard Kyle yell. G*$d&%%it, I didn't need help, I could handle this.

It seemed though that Kyle had sensed somehow what she was about to do. She back-flipped back, then slammed her hand on the ground. I saw a rush of ice come lunging at me. Then I felt hands shove me from the side, and I hit the ground.

"OOF!" Ow that hurt, I'd landed on the side I was stabbed on. Like that was going to help! I rolled on my back to yell at whoever it had been who had pushed me. Then I froze.

I heard Wendy somewhere give a scream. Kyle also let out a yell.

Standing in front of me was Stan, with a long bloody icicle running him clean through.


	12. Chapter 12:  Heroic

Took a brief break from the story to do a one shot. Can find it here: .net/s/7379193/1/How_They_Communicate Sorry for leaving yall on the worst cliffhanger ever, lol.

This chapter is a little odd, since a lot takes place in the mind. Let me know if the format I use for mental communication is OK or if its annoying.

BTW, the little sciency tidbit that Stan shares from Biology class I learned in my own. Since I'm a twin myself, it . . . rather creeped me out lol. I just tried to think of the weirdest thing I've learned from Biology; after all, Stan's not exactly stable.

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><p><strong>Chapter 12: Heroic<strong>_  
><em>

_Journal Entry #2:_

_ Nope, I still don't get any of this. Writing hasn't helped one bit. Thanks a bunch, Cartman._

_ Oh g*%, today hurt like a b*&%$._

_ I am getting rather tired of getting beeped in nearly every sentence. Why on earth would a company make something stupid like this? How does it even work? None of it makes sense. This is the dumbest thing I've ever heard of. And if I thought I was confused, I think Kyle's brain might explode from trying to work this out. Well, more than it did already today._

_ OK so we have bracelets which keep us from swearing. For some reason. They also give us superpowers. For some reason. We're also being swarmed by all our old enemies plus some new ones. For some reason._

_ Am I the only one in this group who thinks this is just a little f*%$ing stupid?_

* * *

><p>The pain was overwhelming. It was like both fire and ice spreading simultaneously through my gut at supersonic speeds. And I couldn't move or anything, cause when you have a giant icicle sticking right through you, it kind of limits where you can go. At least it was its own built in ice pack.<p>

G&%, why did I do this? I didn't even like Craig! I should have let him take the hit, I shouldn't be such a f&%*ing hero, I shouldn't have even got out of bed this morning . . .

Ah h*%% with it, who was I kidding.

I brought the hilt of the power drill I had down on the icicle's base, breaking it off. Staggering back and gritting my teeth against the pain, I willed one thought into the power drill.

Get. That. B*%$&.

I slumped to my knees not bothering to watch as the drill shot off somewhere on its own accord. There was a girl shrieking somewhere to the side, so maybe it managed to get her. I was a little more concerned with what to do with my more immediate problem

Things were getting hazy. I felt like I'd reached a pain threshold so high, I could no longer even register it. This was good cause it meant more numbness than actual pain. This was bad, cause it probably didn't bode well for uh, you know, living.

I felt a shoulder grab my hand. No wait, hand grab my shoulder. Was that it? I couldn't even tell anymore.

"Stan!" I heard a panicked voice say. "Stan, hang in there!" Was that Kyle? Why was he so freaked out? I wasn't that bad. OK I could stand to breathe a little better, and the icicle made it really hard to lay back, but eh, details.

"Stan, say something! Stay with me!"

"Don't make him talk," another voice chimed in. Craig? Oh well, he had been right there. Guy better be f*%$ing grateful too.

"Are you crazy? We need to keep him conscious-"

"Then you do that," Craig said. "You are a psychic, aren't' you? But he can't talk, he's already having an asthma attack. Talking would make breathing harder."

Huh. I'd never noticed it before, but Craig could really maintain his cool in a crisis. Guess it wasn't hard, if you were the kind of guy who never really got highly emotional about anything.

There was some weird background noise going on. Could someone turn it off? It was making the icicle shake, and that was waking up some of the pain. I wished they'd stop it.

*_That sound is Wendy_*, I heard a voice in my head say. Kyle's voice. It sounded a lot closer and clearer than the other voices I'd been hearing at least, so I was pretty sure this one was Kyle.

*_Wendy?*_ I thought. *_How's she making that racket?*_

*_She's a banshee screamer, remember?*_ Kyle said. *_She's actually keeping Queen B distracted; it looks like she can't concentrate on blocking anyone while Wendy's shrieking in her ear.*_

*_Wow how did Wendy know that would work?*_

*_She didn't. She saw you and started screaming. Queen B happened to be the one in front of her and is now having to try her d*#$est to keep from blowing away._*

That put a funny image in my head. Queen B having to hold onto the ground like someone in a tornado while Wendy loomed over her singing something like "I'm So Pretty".

*_Kyle laughed. Yeah, much like that,*_ he said. _*Only I think it was more threats than a song._*

*_D&$$it Kyle, are you going to read everything I think?*_

*_Not on purpose! Filtering intentional thoughts and private ones takes some fine tuning!_*

_ *Dude, why are you freaking out?*_

_ *I'M NOT FREAKING OUT!*_

I didn't think anything specific with words, but I must have radiated suspicion because he immediately followed up with *_Dude Stan, you're dying! How am I supposed to react?*_

_ *Dying? Why am I dying?*_

_ *You have a big f*$%ing SPIKE in your gut! What, you think you're ready to get up and tap dance?*_

_*Dude, chill!*_

*AUGH!*

Hm, this wasn't getting anywhere.

And then there was a lurch, and sudden pain. I'd been staring blankly at fuzzy colors while talking to Kyle, but now it all threatened to go black. I might have completely fallen into that darkness, but I felt a sort of buoyancy that was hard to explain. It was like when you can't fall asleep cause there's this nagging feeling you forgot to do something that day.

*_That's me, keeping you up. And the pain, that was Craig, pulling the spike out,*_ Kyle said. Or thought. Or whatever.

_*Wait, isn't that dangerous? Won't I bleed out or something?*_

_ *He said it was melting anyways, and you were already . . . I mean . . . oh g*$ there's so much blood . . .*_

Kyle wasn't exactly a calming presence at the moment. I think he was freaking out way more than I was. The buoyant feeling I was having was beginning to sink.

_*NO!*_ Kyle yelled. *_You are NOT going anywhere Stan!*_

*_Dude, I can't even move, of course I'm not going anywhere!_*

*_You know what I mean!_*

I felt annoyed. _*Dude Kyle, this whole yelling in my head thing isn't helping! Can't you calm down just a little bit?*_

_ *No! It is helping! I'm not letting you die on me!*_

_ *I'm not dying on you, I'm dying on the floor.*_

_ *Well, uh, actually I am kinda holding your head on my lap here-*_

_ *WHAT? Dude, ew! F*$%ing gay, man!*_

_*I'm trying to keep you breathing, you asthmatic dumba$$! And my best friend is dying, what do you expect me to do?*_

*_Maintain a respectful,_ STRAIGHT_ distance for starters!_*

_ *Shut up! Where do you keep your rebreather?*_

_ *Left coat pocket.*_ I felt my hand move to get it.

*_Wait, what?*_ I heard Kyle say. *_How are you moving?*_

_ *Beats me, I never paid much attention in Biology, at least not to that lecture. Hey, did you know that identical twins are considered by some doctors to be a kind of asexual reproduction?*_

_ *Gross! Wait no, that's not what I meant, where did that even come from? Hey, wait a second . . .*_

I felt my mind beginning to clear. *_Wow Kyle, whatever you're doing, keep it up. That's working.*_

_ *I'm . . . I'm not doing it.*_

_ *What? Then who . . .*_

My eyes flew open. I wasn't even aware I'd closed them. I felt my inhaler being held in my mouth, so I took a deep breath. I was feeling . . . better. Breathing better, pain getting less intense, vision focusing . . . the h$&&?

"Hold still Stan," I heard Craig say. "You're still bleeding somewhat."

"Duh," I gasped. "Dude, what the f%#$ is going on?

I glanced around. I could still see some fighting going on, but our side had all the appearance of a group spurred to desparate action. Wendy was screaming at nearly any girl that managed to stand up straight, and there was a smoky haze over the road from the fires Butters had sparked by throwing bombs around a bit more haphazardly. Then most of my view was obscured by red hair.

"Stan!" Kyle said, panicked eyes holding a ray of hope. "Are you feeling better?"

"Uh, yeah," I said hesitantly. "Still hurts, but why am I-"

Kyle pointed to my other side. I turned my head and saw Craig kneeling next to me, frowning, hands extended over my stomach. I wasn't sure I wanted to look, but I found my eyes heading towards my injury anyways. I was expecting to see a gaping bloody hole and maybe some internal organs sagging limply. Instead I got what looked like a minor puncture, with only a little oozing of blood. And even as I watched, that hole was getting smaller.

Craig's bracelet was glowing a bright yellow.

"You got healing powers?" I said incredulously.

He gave a heavy sigh.

"How'd you figure that out?"

"Cause I got cut in the arm earlier today, and its gone," he muttered. "Besides," he added, lifting up his own blood soaked shirt to expose a nearly healed knife wound in his side, "After I saw you get hit, this started happening."

I laid there for a moment, trying to organize my fuzzy mind. "Why do you have healing powers?" I asked. "Thats . . . not exactly the first thing that comes to mind for you."

"Cause Fate knew I didn't want to be in this stupid suicidal squad, so of course it decided to give me the most vital ability for its survival," he growled.

"Wait, you-"

"Shut up, I'm really trying not to think about it."

I glanced over at Kyle, who was violently rubbing his eyes. I smiled. "Kyle, dude."

His hands whipped down and he tried to plaster a smile on his own face. "Yeah, Stan?"

"Get me off your lap before I punch your teeth out."

Kyle barked a laugh, then stood straight up. I felt my head hit the dirt road rather hard. "OW! Kyle you b#*%#^$!"

"Serves you right for scaring me and calling me gay," he shot back. But he was grinning with relief. He must have really had a shock.

He then spun around whipping his hand in the air. I saw something freeze in mid air just in front of him. It was my power drill, encased in ice.

"That," I heard a girl's voice growl, "Is a very annoying power."

I looked down my feet to see Icicle stomping over. Her ice legs were chipped, little gashes all over.

Good drill, I thought, smirking.

She was now glaring at the frozen drill, hovering in midair. "Another annoying power," she muttered. "I should take you two out first. Then the screamer."

Oh no she didn't!

I didn't need to do anything though because Kyle tackled her. He didn't seem to even mind that she was made from a block of ice. He just started pounding on her and sending shavings of ice flying, all while screaming beeping obscenities at her. Even she was taken aback by the sheer ferocity of the attack. Kyle was letting out all his panic from the last little bit in one big violent outburst.

It didn't all seem physical too. Icicle was staggering, holding her head and growling her own beep-laden sentences. Each blow that Kyle gave, while not looking like much physically, still seemed to make her stumble and wince.

"Augh!" She screamed. "Get back, you freak!" She finally reached up and caught Kyle's hands as they came down. They were instantly covered in ice.

"Oh _H%$$ _that's cold!" Kyle yelled, pulling back. He waved his hands around, and finally stuck them under his arms to try to thaw them. "G*$d&##&%!"

"Ladies!" a voice called out, barely heard over the noise Wendy was making. "BEEHIVE! FALL BACK!"

All around me, fights suddenly disengaged as the group of girls pulled away and put some space between them and us. Wendy didn't stop screaming but she did raise her pitch and lower her volume somewhat. The result was that it made it hard for much of anyone to concentrate on using powers, so we all kind of stared at each other.

Queen B snarled. She still held herself rather stately, but her hair was messed up and there were rips all over her outfit from her fight with Cartman. I noticed with a snicker that he'd slashed arrows pointing to her chest.

"All right," she growled. "Well met, young heroes. You have proven to be worthy foes."

"You better . . . believe it!" Cartman snarled. He was still on the ground, twitching. He probably would have said something more snarky, but since he sounded like he did after coming out of the dentist with his whole mouth numb, he probably shut up for fear of looking like a bigger idiot.

"Worthy foes indeed," Queen B muttered, eyes narrowing at Cartman. "Perhaps this is why Checkmate has taken such an . . . invested interest in you."

I heaved myself to my feet. I heard Craig give a frustrated sigh, but he didn't try to stop me. "Stop talking in riddles, B," I said. "Who is Checkmate, and what does he want with us?"

"Oh like I'd spoil the surprise," she said smirking. "But such a question is hardly worth asking. I'm sure you can all figure it out. You've got some sharp tacks in your group after all. But if I were you, I'd worry about a few bigger things than even he."

I frowned. "Bigger things? Like what?"

She smirked. "Like who we stole all this money for, start there. And if you still can't find any leads, then why don't you try starting . . ." she tossed her hair dramatically, "With the beginning."

At a gesture from her, the ninja girl stepped forwards.

"Aww, and I was just starting to have fun," I heard the strawberry blonde girl grumble.

The ninja thew something down on the ground that exploded in smoke.

Clyde jumped forwards and began to beat his wings. They kicked up such a wind, that the smoke was blown away almost immediately. But it was too late; there was nothing there. No getaway cars, no money, no girls.

I sighed. "Well, so much for that," I said. "OK everyone, status report-"

I was interrupted by Wendy slamming into me, arms latching on so tight I felt my breath get squeezed from my lungs. "Gah!" I gasped. "Wendy, what gives?"

"I thought you were gonna die," she said, voice breaking down into sobs. She had her face buried solidly in my shoulder, and the residual smell of shampoo in her hair made my head far more spin-dizzy than the loss of blood had. I reached around and returned the hug, briefly forgetting what we'd just been through or that even there were other people there.

"AY!" an angry voice cut into our little world. "Make out . . . on yer own . . . g&$d%#$ time! Ah'm still stuck!"

I sighed. D#%$ Cartman.

I released Wendy, but she continued to stick to me. Oh well, not complaining about that. "All right everyone," I said, "Lets try this again. How is everyone?"

"Ah just told you!" Cartman yelled. "I'm f*%#ing stuck!"

Rolling my eyes, I looked over at Craig. "Craig, you mind?" I asked.

His own eyes rolled skyward also. "Augh great, demoted to group nurse," he muttered. "Exactly what I was afraid about."

"Shut up and do yer job, Florence Nightingale," Cartman snapped.

Craig walked over and calmly kicked Cartman in the ribs.

"OW! More like Doctor Gregory House! OW hey, quit it!"

"OK, who else aside from Cartman is injured?" I said. I looked around. For the most part, the group seemed pretty all right. Butters had a few burns, so I guess that put him next in line for healing. Tweek had some bruising, and a few others had nicks and scrapes, but nothing really life threatening.

I couldn't believe it. We'd actually fought a whole team of supervillains and come out still alive! Barely. OK I nearly didn't make it, but still!

Kenny slapped me hard on the back, grinning. He was still wearing his Mysterion costume, but he'd taken the mask off and lowered the hood, letting his gold hair fall all over the place. "F*%#ing awesome scare there dude!" he said, winking.

"What's got you all happy?" Wendy asked.

"Cause I survived!" he said. "Look!" He pulled up his shirt. "See? Not even a scratch! Look at my glorious, undamaged abs! Feel the smooth stainless steel of my pecs!"

"Glory in your talent at embellishment," Wendy finished.

Kenny continued to grin. "Oh come on, feel my muscles, you know you want to."

"Not happening, Kenny," she said. She shot me a side smile though. "Well at least not with yours."

I felt a slight blush creep up my face that made my mouth twitch. Augh was I grinning like a brain-dead idiot again?

Token, Clyde, and Ike were off to the side, muttering something between each other and glancing at me. I frowned, puzzled. Now what was going on over there?

"Ahll right!" Cartman said "Great job, Coon and Friends! Now we-"

"No," Token said.

"Augh, fine, TEAL then-"

"No!" Token said again. "Stop trying to take over Cartman. Look, we've just been talking it over. We think we should all elect a group leader."

Cartman frowned. "Ah _am_ the group leader, that's why its called Coon and Friends!"

"No its not, Cartman," I said, getting as annoyed as Token now. "Stop trying to say it is."

"Actually, an election's a great idea," Kyle said. He shot an evil look at Cartman. "I nominate Stan. After all, he's the one who's really been holding this group together. And he's the real hero of the night."

Cartman glared at him. "Oh big whoop-di-do, he did one heroic thing; that by ahll means makes him the most heroic-"

"I second that motion!" Wendy said, getting a further scowl from Cartman.

"All in favor?" Token said, also adding his hand to the air.

Everyone's hands flew up. Even Craig waved his in a halfhearted kind of manner. Only Cartman's remained at his side. After glancing around, he stomped his foot on the ground and began swearing.

I blinked. "Wait, leader?" I said. "I don't want to be-"

"Congratulations, Stan!" Wendy said, leaning into me and planting a big wet kiss on my lips.

I felt myself grinning like an idiot again. OK maybe being leader had its perks!


	13. Chapter 13: Checkmate

Somewhat shorter chapter this time. Can't say TOO much from this viewpoint yet after all. Hopefully, y'all are getting a nice sense of mystery in all this.

And thanks a bunch to those leaving reviews! I can't tell you how much they mean to me. :D

On to story! You know, insanity can be rather hard to write sometimes.

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><p><strong>Chapter 13: Checkmate<strong>

_Journal #649:_

_ I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman, I hate Eric Cartman . . ._

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><p>I sat in my boss's chair, at my boss's desk, listening to the rain pour against the window. There was always something soothing about the sound of rain; the rhythmic pounding of the many drops were like a drum solo to my ears. I had the chair facing the window so I could look out on the Denver streets. The lights from the city night life were the only illumination in the office I currently sat in, the rain the only sound. After all, I didn't want to draw attention to the window; it was after hours and no one was supposed to be in the building, save a few security guards.<p>

Fools, all. They were so old or bored, slipping by them was like stealing candy from a baby. Or ten dollars . . .

"This is boring," I heard a gruff voice behind me say. "Are we just going to wait here all night?"

"It shouldn't take all night," I said, sighing. "By now both locations have been hit, and they've had plenty of time to get away and shake pursuit."

"I still think I should have gone too," the gruff voice grumbled. I lazily spun my chair around to face the speaker. He was a tall, muscular blond kid with tattered punk clothes. He stood on the other side of the desk with his arms folded, glaring at me. Trent Boyett was a bit of a wild card who didn't like to be held in reserve. If left to his own devices, he probably would have stormed back over to South Park and eliminated his enemies once and for all.

But I couldn't have that. I had better plans after all. Especially for one.

"Patience, Backfire," I said, using Boyett's chosen codename, as our group was wont to do. "You'll get your rematch soon enough. You brought back some useful information last time after all. Perhaps they've learned a bit more since, and Queen B will be able to enlighten us both."

"And _that_ is what I don't get," Backfire growled. "Why exactly are we _letting_ them figure out how to get powers? Wouldn't that just make them a bigger pain in the a## to deal with?"

I chuckled at the beep. I didn't quite know how the bracelets caused it, but it was rather amusing. "You know the old saying," I said. "The bigger they are, the harder they fall. I want them to build themselves up and think that they've got it all under control. That way, when the house of cards finally crumbles, it will be all the worse for them."

"I still think its all pointless," Backfire growled.

I just smiled. "Trust me, you'll enjoy the results far more, I assure you."

"Tough talk for an intern in an investment company," a feminine voice said behind me.

I raised an eye. "Welcome back, Queen B. Why don't you come around the desk so I can see your pretty face?"

"Why don't you turn around and look at it yourself, Checkmate?" she said with an air of amusement. Ah it seems we played these power games every time we met. She refused to be just another hench who did what she was told, but at the same time I refused to let her have more power over the game than I had. It was an interesting dance of control we often competed in.

I decided to compromise and turned my chair only a quarter, so I could see both her and Backfire. She was leaning up against the rain-splattered window, hand on hip and smirking. Next to her stood her silent sentry, Ninja. Which explained how she had appeared behind me by the window. With Ninja handy, you didn't need to mess with dodging security guards and cameras.

"Well, tell me how your night has been, ladies," I said conversationally.

Ninja scowled, but Queen B tossed her hair. "Well we managed to get away with both hits, that's for sure," she said. "And you were right; we did rather bump into your . . . friends, but not quite in the way we anticipated."

I raised an eye. "They didn't come at you all pretending to be super heroes? I'd have thought they would have worked that out by now."

"Oh they did," she said with a wave of her hand. "But not because we broke into a bank. No, it turns out the hostage we grabbed was in their group. Whoopsie."

I tried to conceal an eyeroll. "Well, there's karma working for us some way I suppose. End result pretty much was the same though. What have they learned?"

Queen B looked at Ninja, who took the cue to report. "Stan Marsh is a technopath, as Backfire suspected, and his friend Kyle Brofloski is a psychic. Stan's girlfriend Wendy Testaburger is a siren of sorts while the little Ike Brofloski is an electromaniac. Tweek Tweak-"

"I still can't believe that's his name," Queen B muttered under her breath.

"- has superspeed, Token Black super strength, Clyde Donovan can . . . uh, look like a mosquito, and Butters Stotch can turn anything he touches into a bomb. Aside from reincarnation, Kenny McKormic has no powers yet from the bracelet. I don't know who that ginger kid is that was with Stotch, but he seemed powerless too."

I tapped my fingertips together. "And . . . Eric Cartman?"

"Nothing so far."

I frowned. That was surprising and problematic. If anyone in the group would have found a way to get a power by now, it would have been him. He wouldn't stand for being left behind. Oh he'd get one eventually, but in the meantime . . . I didn't know what it was. I did not like the idea of not knowing all that he was capable of. I'd made that mistake once already.

"Can we go beat them up now?" Backfire asked.

I waved my hand. "I told you, you'll get your chance," I said. "Right now, I need to figure out what I'm doing with this new information."

"Probably hide in your boss's office, plotting circles and thinking you're some James Bond villain," Ninja muttered.

I smiled at her to let her know her contempt for me was mutual.

"Aww, now don't be like that to poor Checkmate," Queen B said, sauntering over. "He's a very brilliant man, aren't you?" She leaned down close to me, batting her eyes.

I gave her a sidelong smirk. "Brilliant enough to be very, very wary of you, my dear," I said, rising from my chair. I went to stand at the window, looking out over the rain-soaked streets of Denver. "I am curious though," I said casually. "When I gave you the assignment of hitting an armory mark to get the heroes' attention, as well as supplies, what made you rob a bank as well?"

"Isn't that the usual fare for newly founded supervillains?" I heard her ask, sounding bored.

"Yes, precisely why I'm curious. I know you're smarter and more manipulative than that. Besides, you don't even need the money."

"Yeah, aren't you like, seriously rich or something?" Backfire asked.

Queen B gave a laugh. "Oh, I'm not blowing any of my daddy's money on this venture, not until I can really find whats in it for me in all this. I'm just having fun. Besides," she said in a tone that made me frown, "I've got more invested interests than just you . . . Scott Tenorman."

I spun around to glare at her. She sat in the desk chair now, legs crossed and smiling at me smugly.

"Scott Tenorman isn't here, Angelica Ballentine," I said quietly, putting an emphasis on her own name. "Scott Tenorman is a simple business graduate student from Harvard University, who is spending the year in an internship in Denver. He is a nice, intelligent, well-respected member of society." I walked closer, looming over the chair Queen B sat in. "I am not so nice," I said, voice lowering. "I am sneaky. I am manipulative. I am cunning. I am vengeful. I am probably insane. And I," I said, now growling, "Am always several steps ahead. That is why I am not Scott Tenorman. I am Checkmate."

"Nice to meet you," she said sarcastically.

Our faces were inches apart now, and both of us looked right back at the other. We glared at each other, competing without words. At least until Backfire gave a loud, deliberate yawn. Then Queen B turned her head to glare at him. I smiled faintly. Point for me. About time, I was getting tired of her seeming to have run the whole conversation.

"Well, what's done is done, at any rate," I sad, pulling away and resuming my casual tone. "I do wholeheartedly appreciate those weapons though, ladies. My subordinates will be well armed for whenever we may need them next."

"Why do you only recruit gingers, anyways?" Ninja asked. "Seems rather silly."

"Oh I have my reasons," I said. She scowled, not liking how I often brushed off her questions. I didn't much care about her though, she was irrelevant. Queen B was the one to keep an eye on. And for several reasons.

"Oh don't mention it," Queen B said, rising from the chair. "Always looking for an opportunity to relieve a little boredom. Come Ninja, lets leave the boys to play with their new toys."

Ninja smirked and threw a large duffel on the ground that I had not earlier seen her carrying. From the metallic chinking sounds it made on landing, it sounded like all the weapons they'd stolen were in the bag. I gave an appreciative nod.

"Oh one more thing," Queen B said, turning back to face me. "You know that McKormic kid?"

"The one who's been masquerading as a vigilante for the past few years?" I said.

"Yes. Mysterion," she said, smirking. "You do know his powers don't come from the bracelet, right?"

"At least the whole reincarnation thing doesn't," I said. What was she getting at?

"Oh, jut wondering if you knew," she said, tossing her hair again. "Might want to look into why though . . . would be a shame if someone else were to barge in on the scene and mess up all your precious planning."

With that, she blew me a kiss and put her hand on Ninja's shoulder. In a flash, they were gone.

"I think she won that round," I heard Backfire say.

My eyes narrowed. "On the contrary," I said. "In an effort to make it sound like she knew so much more to what was going on, she let a little hint slip."

"Hint? What kind of hint?"

I folded my arms and tapped my fingers thoughtfully. "She let me know that someone else has a vested interest in this group. And that that someone else is tied to this McKormic, as well as his powers."

"Good, maybe they can help me figure out how to kill him for good," Trent muttered.

I remained silent, thinking. Chances were, she didn't intend for me to glean much from what she had said. She just wanted to leave on a note that she was further in the game than I was. But that was a mistake. She might have a few connections I wasn't aware of, but I was so much more experienced than she was. Any connections she could make, I could find out about and counter. Or use them myself.

"Trent, I think its time we make a visit," I said.

"Oh good, can I beat them up finally?"

"Sorry, not to them, I'm afraid."

Trent rolled his eyes. "Am I _ever_ going to have any fun or are you just going to keep me on a leash?"

I smiled. "Actually, you might, Backfire. You might." I saw him grin with anticipation.

I scowled at the large duffel. Now how the hell was I going to get that noisy thing out of the building?


	14. Chapter 14:  TEAL

I'm glad so many people had fun guessing who Checkmate was. I like to make things fun for people.

BTW, the Pink song I refer to as the ringtone is kind of the theme song I imagine for this whole TV series. It just seems to fit South Park so freakn' well. And it would fit them even better as teenagers. If I were to pick a theme song for my fic, it would probably be Skillet's "Hero", although I'd like a more upbeat song. Maybe I'll dib both, one for their alter egos and the other for their hero selves.

I'm such a sucker for a good theme song. Hey, what do you all think would be good songs? For either the series or my fic, whichever.

. . . I hope I didn't get too long with descriptions here. I just have very particular ideas on what they look like. Made for a long chap though.

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><p><strong>Chapter 14: TEAL<strong>

_Dear Diary,_

_ OK Cartman, see? I'm writing in my d^%$ diary again! Happy now? _

_ You really want this into a movie? Well read THIS, Stephen Spielberg! Cartman's a gigantic fata$$ who'll trade his own mother for a ding dong. A SINGLE DING DONG! He'll also manipulate the h^%% out of anyone who even gives him the time of day. If you were to put him in a room with Hannibal Lecter, he'd convince the cannibal to eat himself. He'd betray his best friend for a video game; trust me, he's done it before. If you do make a movie, cast him as the most slimy, lecherous, despicable piece of garbage that ever walked the face of the big screen. And if this movie ever does become famous, I'm so writing a tell-all book that you can use for a sequel. DO YOU HEAR ME CARTMAN? A f*^$ING TELL-ALL!_

_ G*#, Cartman sucks so much a&& . . ._

_ On a more serious note though, how is he able to predict all these powers? And why are these powers all related to us and our pasts in some sort of way? How do these d%$^ bracelets even work? They don't make any sense! Why would any company make bracelets to keep more unruly kids in line, and then give them the potential for superpowers? Wouldn't that just make the unruly kids even worse? I mean, come on; giving_ superpowers_ to kids whom parents deem are troublemakers. Do YOU think that's sensible? It doesn't f*^$ing compute! This is stupid! Why do these g*$d*#^% things exist? AND WHY AM I F#&%ING TYPING G*$D&^$ SYMBOLS?_

_ AUGHSHA;OITJ;LG;LKHSHJDL;GOI_

*system error*

* * *

><p>I woke up Thanksgiving morning to my cell phone ringing. This was not what I wanted to wake up to; I'd been up late with everyone last night, practicing my powers. We'd been spending nearly every day of the week after school practicing. Sure, some of us needed it. Clyde still couldn't get his wings to disappear, although he had gotten to the point where he could morph in and out of swarm mode. He also had yet to fly; I think he was scared those flimsy wings wouldn't support his weight. Butters also needed practice badly, as none of us wanted to hang out with him until he stopped randomly blowing things up. And yeah, I guess I could use some work on reading only specific parts of thoughts, or in levitating things so they didn't go spontaneously flying into the stratosphere. I can tell you, being able to unintentionally pick up surface thoughts when you walked around a high school was a bit of a headache. I now knew more gossip than I had <em>ever<em> cared to know.

But man, it was taking its toll. Those of the guys on the football team had the biggest problem, since they couldn't get out of practice. So Stan, Cartman, and Clyde all had to arrive late to our own practices. We actually lost the game Tuesday because they'd been so distracted. Even Cartman didn't seem to care as much about football anymore, and he hated losing.

They weren't the only ones either. Wendy had been starting to skip debate club (which was practically unheard of), and Butters spent his practices with us whining about missing glee club. I think Tweek was rather happy to bail on cross country. Token was worried about how our practices would affect basketball when it started. Cartman had gotten Craig less hours working at the video store, much to Craig's annoyance. Even Ike had clashes with hockey, although for him it was no contest. He'd already missed two of our meetings in favor of wielding a stick on the ice, and not even I could convince him otherwise.

I was one of the few who didn't really have anything better to do with his time. I usually just spent it doing my own research or fiddling with computer stuff anyways. Yearbook committee was rather slow before Christmas. Also eager for our meetings was Dougie, who insisted on showing up for some reason, despite not having any discernible powers.

Anyways, it had been a long and crazy week as it was, and we still hadn't found out jack squat about Checkmate or the Beehive or even anything that Queen B had hinted at. H*$$, even Phantom Fan had vanished after telling us where to find Tweek that Saturday. So I'd gone to bed with ever increasing confusion at the whole situation and had taken forever to fall asleep.

Hence my annoyance at the phone call at six am.

I roused myself from sleep with some difficulty and waved my arm generally in the direction of my ringing phone. Pink's "Raise Your Glass" song was piercing the silence of the morning, so I knew who it was on the other end. Had it been Fata%%, I'd have let it ring. But if the usually night owl Kenny was calling this early, there had to be a good reason.

The phone lifted itself off my bedstand and sorta stagger-floated into my hand. Times like this I really loved my power. "Dude," I said, holding it to my ear, "What are you up this early for?"

"Technically, I never went to bed," came the tired response on the other end.

Ouch. "Long night?"

"Eh, happens. Tried to shake some punk down for info on Checkmate and ended up chasing him clear to and all over Denver."

"Did you get anything from him?"

"Only that Checkmate usually operates there, so he's probably based somewhere in the city."

"Well that's something I suppose." I rubbed my eyes, trying to wake up. "So, I know why you're awake, but why are you waking me up?"

"Cartman's called a meeting at the school."

D*$$it all to h$%%. "We just _had_ a meeting last night! Can't he wait till noon at least?"

"Says its important."

"I thought Stan was running things; why is Cartman calling a meeting?"

"Cause he has Stan's OK."

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. "Well thanks for giving me the heads up, Stan," I muttered, then turned back to the phone. "Why?"

"They said they'll tell everyone when they get there."

"But why so g*$d*#%^ early?"

"Well, it _is_ Thanksgiving, they've probably got family stuff later."

So did I, come to think of it. I sighed. "OK, I'll drag Ike out of bed and meet you there in half an hour."

"K, I'll head over and try not to fall asleep," he said, somehow sounding cheerful despite being totally beat.

I clicked the phone off and hauled my sleepy butt out of bed to get dressed. There had better be a good reason for meeting today; I'd been looking forwards to a day off for once. My farm on Facebook was starting to suffer.

After throwing on some clothes, I tiptoed out of my room towards Ike's door. I could hear Mom singing to herself downstairs, probably already working on dinner. It occurred to me that we might get roped into helping, so maybe sneaking out early was a good idea after all.

I snuck into Ike's room and shook him awake.

"Ughn, I didn't highstick 'em ref, he ran into it," he muttered, trying to wave off my hand.

"Ike, its me; get up," I said, shaking him again.

Ike sat up, yawning. "Kyle?" he said sleepily. "Whaddya want?"

"They guys have called another meeting at the school," I said, pulling some clothes for him out of his dresser.

"This early?" he asked.

"Its either that or help mom bake a pumpkin pie and make stuffing," I said.

"Toss me the yellow shirt," he said.

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later, we were in my hybrid, at the school. I pulled up close to the track, which still showed signs of destruction from a week earlier, but still made a good practice area when no one was around.<p>

However, no one was around. Not even the gang.

"Where the h*$$ is everyone?" Ike asked.

"I don't know," I said. "Kenny said to meet at the school, so I assumed the usual place."

I felt my phone vibrate, and pulled it out. New text, from Stan.

_Meet in shop class. Door by track is open._

"Looks like we're going inside," I said, walking over and pulling open the door.

* * *

><p>Everyone else was already in the shop class, looking varying degrees of tired. Cartman, Token, Wendy and Stan looked awake, but Butters and Dougie were nodding, and Craig and Clyde had their eyes half-closed. Kenny already looked fast asleep leaning against a belt sander. Someone should do something about that.<p>

"GAH! Hi Kyle!" Tweek said when I came in. He also looked awake, but that was probably due to the huge thermos in his hands that was most likely filled with the usual coffee. I doubted he ever slept anyways.

"Right, now that the Jews are finally here," Cartman said in that tone of voice that always made me want to strangle him, "Maybe we can finally get down tah business!" He was standing with his foot on one of several large boxes on the floor.

"Yeah, I'm curious as to why you had to yank us out here at the crack of dawn," Craig said.

"I don't mind, got me out of helping with dinner," Clyde said, yawning.

"I'm gonna get grounded," Butters mumbled. "And Dad doesn't like me sneakn' out this early."

"Butters, tah h$&& with your dad," Cartman said. "You're a f*$%ing superhero; stand up tah him already, g*$!"

The idea of standing up to his strict father was enough to shock Butters completely awake. "Ack, no; Caldera is less scary!" he said, shuddering.

"F*$," Cartman muttered.

"WE ARE HERE," Stan said, loudly to drown out Cartman, "because no one is using the school at the moment, so no one can see what we're doing. Early morning isn't exactly a usual time for break-ins anyways. So we have all morning and maybe longer to do something that's been a while in coming."

"What's that?" Clyde said.

Cartman used his foot to flip open the box it had been resting on. Inside I could see various colorful reams of fabric, metal sheeting, glasses, belts, gloves, and other odds and ends.

Cartman grinned. "Costuming," he said. "You're not a superhero without a look, right? And Ah for one don't want tah jump intah another fight with regular street clothes. There are tools both here in the shop room and also across the hall in home ec, so have at. If yah need help with sewing, ask Wendy cause she's a girl."

"Sexist bigot, sew your own d*$% costume," Wendy shot at him, but he just smirked.

I raised an eye. Was it just me, or was Cartman a lot more smug than usual? I did a cursory mental scan, but I didn't pick up anything. Well OK I did get smugness, but that was it. Good g&$, did he already figure out how to hide his thoughts? That was unfair! I wasn't good yet at deep scans; I felt rather guilty practicing it after all, so I didn't dare try one now. But d*#% it was annoying.

Everyone else meanwhile had dived into the boxes, looking excited. Token was playing with some black and white reams of spandex, while Wendy was holding up some pink and purple ones to her skin. Clyde had slapped a pair of goggles on his head and was now shuffling through other accessories. Butters was holding some of the sheet metal and was exchanging big grins with Dougie. Stan had found some construction glasses again and was sifting through a few utility belts, muttering about what power tools and other portable machines he needed to make room for. Cartman went right for some black and yellow fake leathers and set to work like he'd already planned out what he was doing. Even Ike was fiddling with some wires, probably working on a design for conduction in his costume. Kenny was still fast asleep, but that didn't matter as he already had a costume anyways.

I frowned. Was I the only one wondering where all this came from?

"Don't think about it," Stan muttered, seeing my face. "I don't want to know." He handed me a delta kite with a grin. "This was mine though. Thought you'd like an upgrade to your more . . . classic look."

I couldn't help but smile.

It was nearly two o'clock when the whirring of shop equipment and sewing machines fell silent. We all stood in the shop room and looked at each other.

We were f*$%ing awesome.

Stan wore yellow protective glasses and had a yellow utility belt on which he hung various power tools and stuff that he'd brought with him. He also had read leather gloves and shoes. He wore a white shirt that he'd somehow already gotten the logo on of a yellow T on blue background, and had blue leather pants. He wore red elbow and knee pads also. To top it off, he had a backpack that looked mechanical. I'd helped him somewhat with its design; it could fold out into a variety of things. We were also already designing some mechanical rocket boots and punching gloves, but didn't have the equipment for them at the moment.

Cartman still looked like he was optimistically going for his Coon look, although I think he was being a little too optimistic. He'd left his chest completely bare with the exception of a crisscross of black leather with yellow center stripes, a yellow belt, and a red half-cape that was attached to the shoulder part of the crisscross chest belts. A black circle with a big red "C" was in the middle of the crisscross. He also had a black studded leather collar, studded leather arm bands, and wrist bracers too. Also some bracers on his legs also, leaving his feet oddly bare. His pants were also black with gashes cut strategically. He wore a black domino mask in a coon-mask like shape. It was like his old coon look, only with a Sabertooth feel to it.

Wendy looked a little more like a normal superheroine. She had a purple spandex tunic with a short skirt on it, and pink spandex leggings and arms. She topped the look off with yellow elbow length gloves, knee length high heeled boots, and a yellow belt, with a yellow band that held her hair up in a ponytail. She also wore a domino mask, though it was purple. Even I thought she looked rather hot, and I didn't really think she was my type. Stan sure kept looking over in her direction, as well as several of the other boys.

Butters seemed to have updated his supervillain look. His helmet was made from actual metal this time, a red sphere blazing in the middle. Also metal were the plated gauntlets and greaves he'd somehow fastened together, looking like he had stolen gloves and boots from a suit of armor. He had a metal chestplate too, which had a long flowing gray and teal cape attached via red jewel fasteners. Teal leather made the pants and shirt under the armor. He had a metal belt also, with a red jewel in the center. He almost looked decent enough to take seriously.

His minion Dougie was also decked out in armor, and a little more of it. It covered his chest, shoulders, elbows, waist, knees, hands, and feet. He had metallic goggles too, and wore mainly gray leather under the armor. I hoped he had the strength to move in that stuff.

Clyde seemed to have gone a bit more typically superhero too. He had a black spandex look going, with red gloves, boots, belt, and a red mosquito on his black shirt. I think he used a lot of black and red to try to toughen up his power a bit. He also had the flight goggles over his eyes, and a red ninja-like covering over the lower part of his face. He said it looked buglike. There were holes in the back of his costume so his wings could fold out.

Tweek made a costume out of white spandex that was had a no-sleeves and shorts look, using green striping on the side, somewhat reminiscent of a jogging suit. He also had green shoes, hand gloves, and knee/elbow pads. His mask was green and wrapped around his eyes like he was a teenage mutant ninja turtle, leaving green strips of ribbon-like fabric behind his head.

Craig (after being threatened that if he didn't make something, Cartman would) had gone with a black and blue theme to his costume. He went for black leather jacket and pants, with a blue spandex shirt. He also wore blue fingerless gloves and boots, and had a yellow utility belt as well as a gold design of an oriental dragon on the back of his jacket. He'd also attached gold bands around the knuckles of his gloves, and around the toes of his boots. He topped it with yellow glasses, and somehow made glasses come off as punk. His samurai sword was slung across his back with a yellow leather strap. He'd have looked really cool had he not been standing with his shoulders slouched in a very bored way.

Token wore black and white spandex. The shirt part was white with the bottom black. Boots were white with gloves black. There was also a black V stripe shape on the top of the shirt that went over his shoulders, and white inverted V striping on the legs. His mask was white spandex and was the type that wrapped around his head. Black glasses covered his eyes though.

Ike had spiked his black hair up a bit and wore a blue domino mask. He also had gold goggles stuck on his forhead. The rest of his costume was base yellow, with what looked like blue lines circuit boarding all over. He had blue gloves and boots that had gold metallic details. His belt was also gold metallic over blue spandex. It was rather futuristic. I also bet he could easily discharge a current through any of the wiring on that costume. H*##, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd worked some sort of computer circuitry into it.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I had a suit of sky blue spandex, with a white V over the shoulders and chest. Two long, white inverted Vs also went from my waist down the sides of my legs. I also had green gloves and boots that went up to my elbows and knees in a typical superhero fashion, and a green spandex belt. My cape was Stan's green and blue kite, with some of the support structure taken out. This way it hung folded yet straight behind me, but with movement or a slight psychic push on my part, it could fold out to a large delta shape.

"We," Cartman said with an air of finality, "look f*^$ing bada$$."

Everyone exchanged glances, grinning. We really did look like a bunch kicka## superheroes.

"Everyone, sound off!" Stan said. He raised his power drill. "Toolshed!"

I flared my cape. "Delta!" I said, using what I thought would be a cooler updated version of my old superhero name.

"The Coon!" Cartman said, folding his arms and smirking that know-it-all smirk. What was his issue today?

"Diva!" Wendy said, posing. Cartman snorted at her chosen name, and she smacked him.

"Mosquito," Clyde said with a sigh.

"Outlet!" Ike said with a big grin. I mirrored it; that was so cute.

"Jitterbug!" Tweek said, hopping from foot to foot.

"Tupper . . . no wait, uh, Sampson!" Token said.

"Professor Ch-Chaos!" Butters said, tossing his cape dramatically.

"With General Disarray!" Dougie added, grinning.

"Can I go home yet?" Craig muttered.

Cartman pointed at him. "Dr. Buzzkill!"

Craig flipped him off.

"AY!"

Stan looked around, grinning. "And we are the Extreme Avenger League!" he said.

My phone rang, interrupting my thought that we were missing something. I dashed over and snatched it up from my pile of regular clothes. My home phone number glared at the top, much like I bet the woman on the other end was doing to empty space. Uh oh.

"Uh, hi Mom," I said, raising the phone.

"Kyle Brofloski, were have you been?" her shrill voice rang back sternly. It must have been loud enough to be heard by the others, because Cartman threw his arms up in frustration. "B*%#$ strikes again," he muttered.

"I'm uh, with my friends," I said, trying to angle the phone away from Cartman and hoping she didn't hear him. "Ike is with me too," I added, knowing that would be her next question.

"I've been texting you all day!" she said. "You know we might have needed help in the kitchen!"

"Sorry Mom, I didn't think our, uh, activity would take so long," I said. I shot Cartman a glare that wordlessly stated that if I got in trouble I was holding him responsible. I didn't even need to send the message psychically. From the roll of his eyes he got it, and probably didn't care. I decided to glare at him pointedly for the duration of my phone call.

Which was long. My mother rattled on and on in my ear about how she and Dad had been counting on her son's help, how we had some obscure extended family coming over, how dinner was in two hours, yada yada yada. I even stopped glaring at Cartman after awhile, thinking that maybe his irritation with my mother was warranted for once. Instead, I looked pleadingly over at Ike.

Ike smiled, and took my phone. "Oh sorry Mom!" he said, using his most apologetic voice. "Its just that Kyle knew that his friend Kenny's family wasn't all that well off, so we've been taking him out shopping for some food supplies and kind of lost track of time. We were just having so much fun!"

"Oh, the poor dear," I heard my mother's voice ring out over the line, going high with sympathy. "What a wonderful way to spend Thanksgiving day! That's a great idea sweetie! Tell your brother and his friends that you all are such thoughtful boys."

"Sure thing mom," he said, winking at me. I grinned back. Stan shot him a thumbs-up.

"Well just make sure you two are home for dinner around four o'clock," she said. "Wish Kenny luck this holiday, all right?"

"Can do," Ike said. "Love ya mom!"

"Love you too, poopsie!"

"You really are a freakn' genius," I said, as Ike handed me my phone back. "You always know just what to say to pacify her."

"Its actually not that hard," Ike said. "Just say something that makes you sound like an angel, then she can't be mad at you."

"Ah take back mah thoughts earlier," Cartman said. "Ike, you're a great addition tah the team."

Ike beamed.

"All the same," I said, "We'll now have to hit a grocery store real fast and get some canned goods for Kenny's family. Knowing my mother, she'll be calling them after today to ask how they appreciated the thought, so we better make good on Ike's bluff."

"All right," Token said, "That's something I don't mind pitching in for."

"Yah got lucky, poorbait," Cartman said, turning towards Kenny's sander that he'd been asleep on the whole day. "You'll actually get tah eat this Thanks . . . gi . . ."

His voice trailed off. There was no one at the belt sander. Instead, the only sign that there had been anyone at all, was the stool he'd been sitting on . . . and a small puddle of blood.


	15. Chapter 15:  Empathy

I'm introducing a seldom used character in this chapter, who I think is woefully ignored by both the fandom and the series itself. This character has tons of potential for amusement, in my opinion. Especially when you put her in the same room as today's viewpoint. This was so funny to write; it took me forever cause I kept pausing, imagining what was going on, and having to laugh it off. By the way, I really couldn't find much about this character either. Like what her hair or eye color is. So I rather made it up. Let me know if there's any actual information about her out there somewhere and I'll edit. I'd at least like a last name.

Time to shake things up! Enter another evil organization for our heroes to tangle with.

Oh, and Kenny's an incorrigible flirt. But you all know that.

"Belt sanders make bad pillows" came from my proofreading sister by the way. It was so funny I stole it.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15: Empathy<strong>

_Dear Diary,_

_ Writing is still boring. I guess that's ironic, since my life has been anything but boring, and diaries are for writing about your life. Even writing it like a comic book is boring; I prefer reading those anyways. Oh I know, I'll write about my fantasy today!_

_ She was so beautiful as she sat. At least I assume she was; her coat hid most of her features. I imagined what it would be like if she were to remove that coat. And shirt. And everything. She's have the most luscious figure. Wide hips, huge chest, curvy torso. Long blonde hair that would curl perfectly around her smooth shoulders. Full lips partly open. Green eyes half lidded and eager. I'd take her eagerly myself and-_

*rest of page ripped off*

*post-it note covering what's left*

_D#%%it Kenny, write about me one more f*$%ing time like that and I will kill you till you STAY dead!_

* * *

><p>My eyes shot open. I vaguely remembered something about pain again. On my face? Oh wait.<p>

Belt sanders make bad pillows. I made a mental note of that. D$%%it I knew that stupid shop room would be the death of me. It usually was.

Odd though, I thought I'd unplugged that sander for just that reason . . . oh well, at least I got some sleep _some_how.

I sat up in bed and made my cursory check. Yup, all limbs accounted for, no scars or bleeding or other damage. Stuck in my usual clothes. That was something I never understood; forget me coming back to life, how did my _clothes_ end up on me? I knew my parents couldn't afford to keep replacing them, that's for sure.

"So it IS true!" I heard a voice say.

"GAH" I yelled, thrashed in my sheet, then ended up face-first on the floor by the bed. Why was someone in my room?

"Smooth," I heard the voice say sarcastically. Wait, that was a girl voice! Why was a _girl_ in my room?

JACKPOT!

It took me a second to untangle myself from the sheet, despite my eagerness. On the other side of my bed sat a girl in a chair. She wore jeans and a pink parka which obscured pretty much everything else about her (much to my dismay) expect her disapproving green eyes and frowning lips. Familiar frowning lips . . . I knew this girl!

"Lizzy?" I said incredulously. "From school?" I paused a moment, eyes widening. "You were with the Beehive last week!" I cried. I'd only seen a flash of the pink parka but it had left before I'd caught anything else.

She flinched slightly. "Shut up, I was . . . representing someone," she said, avoiding eye contact.

I had a thousand questions in my mind. Why was she here? Why was she with the Beehive? Why wasn't she surprised at my respawn? What did she mean by "its true"? Why wouldn't she go out with me when I asked her once a week? Why would she only give me a fist to my face for my trouble? Why did she always bring up that I asked every girl out every week? Why did she obscure what I suspected to be a supermodel frame under that bulky parka? Would she take it off so I could see? Maybe-

"Oh, cut it _out_ Kenny!" she said.

I blinked. "Cut what out?"

She folded her arms. "I know that look. That's the 'I'm undressing you with my eyes' look, and I hate it. You give that look to me every g$%d*#^% time you see me in school."

"Then take off your parka, I'm curious," I said.

"H*$$ no!"

I smirked, then jumped back on my bed. "Well, I'm not the one sneaking into bedrooms," I said, leaning back on my pillow. "But, you know, if you're really that desperate . . ." I patted the mattress next to me.

Lizzie flipped me off. "Not on your apparently immortal life," she said. Her eyes changed when she said that however. She looked . . . nervous? Confused? Worried?

Inviting?

"You're getting that look again, cut it out!"

I blinked. "Well, again, you _are_ the one who snuck in my room!" I said.

"I didn't sneak!" she yelled back. What part of her face I could see had turned beet red.

"Then what-"

"My parents are visiting yours, and they threw me in here," she said, sounding like she'd been thrown to the wolves as a sacrifice.

I grinned, leaped off the bed, and landed in her lap. "Well, apparently they want us to get acquainted!" I said cheerfully. This was looking to be the best respawn ever.

"UGH!" she yelled, then shoved me off. I hit the ground hard. "Creep!" she said. "I can't believe you're Mysterion!"

I blinked. It occurred to me she knew a lot more about me than I wanted people to know. "Huh?"

She got up and began to pace around the room in an agitated fashion. "Mysterion is supposed to be suave and heroic! He's a self sacrificing person who's calm and polite and honorable and _respectful of women and personal space!_" She practically spat the last part at me.

I fell back on my bed laughing. I couldn't help it; this was getting too funny. "Don't tell me," I gasped, "That you've had a crush on Mysterion? I could have taken you out for a date if I'd just asked you as a superhero?"

"I did not!" she yelled, but again was red in the face. Heh, yeah right. "Anyways, I certainly don't like him now, not when I know he's really you, you lecherous, skirt-chasing, egotistical, sexist, happy-go-lucky-"

"You forgot handsome and mysterious," I said, grinning. "Well I am!" I added, when she shot me a look.

"Why am I staying here . . ." she muttered to herself, glancing at the door.

"Beats me, but I appreciate it," I said. I frowned. "Since I am a little tired of dying and waking up on my own . . . not knowing why, or having anyone remember, or having anyone else understand what it feels like-"

"To be killed and yet never die," she said, voice quiet. "To hope, when you feel that sharp pain of yet another end, that maybe this might be the last time you have to experience it . . . but are ultimately disappointed when you find yourself back in bed again. And no one believes you."

I stared at her, gaping. "How . . ."

She just folded her arms and turned her back on me.

"You . . ." I scrambled off my bed, not daring to believe my ears. "You too!"

She didn't turn around, but I saw her nod.

Have you ever jumped right into freezing cold water without testing it? How the shock just rips through you almost like a force, how you feel paralyzed with the sudden sensation, how you suddenly _become_ more aware of yourself?

Yeah, that's how stunned I was.

I didn't think I could ever be as stunned as I was when Kyle told me he remembered me dying. Finally, after so many years, so many deaths, someone remembered. Someone knew a sliver of what I was going through. All my friends now knew about my power. They believed me. It still took getting used to sometimes.

But here, here was someone who didn't just know. Who didn't just believe me. Lizzie didn't just sympathize, she empathized. She'd been there too! She was experiencing the same thing! There was another person like me!

"LIZZIE I LOVE YOU!" I yelled, leaping forwards and grabbing her into a huge happy hug.

"AUGH, get _off_ me you jerk!" she yelped, startled.

I just laughed, twirling her around my room. She went limp in my arms, apparently resigning to ride out my enthusiasm. I was gonna get hit for this, but it would be worth it. I was just so happy.

"I knew it!" I cried.

"Knew what, that you weren't alone?" she muttered.

"No!" I said grinning. "I knew you had a hot body!"

Her fist connected with my head.

* * *

><p>I woke up again with a bit of a headache. "Ugh what . . ." I muttered.<p>

"Jerk," I heard a girl's voice growl.

Oh. Right. Lizzie's in my room.

"Worth it," I grinned and sat up. I was on my bed again, and she was back in the chair, glaring at me.

"I'll hit you again," she threatened.

I just grinned. "So," I said in what I hoped was a conversational tone, "Parent are here visiting, huh?"

"Yeah," she muttered. "Just up and decided to visit this morning. You're all also invited to our house tonight for Thanksgiving too."

I perked up. "Seriously?" I said. "Dinner at your place? With real turkey and mashed potatoes and stuffing and cranberry sauce and-"

"Yes! Stop drooling!" she said.

I looked upwards. "Thank you God for the best day of my life," I said. I glanced at her sideways. "Although it could get better . . ."

"Oh good gravy," she muttered.

"OO I love gravy!"

"Shut up, you lunatic."

We sat in silence for a moment. She stared off somewhere in the corner of my room, avoiding looking at the pin-up plastered walls. I took a moment trying to imagine the curvy body I'd felt under all that parka, but eventually my mind wandered a bit. Did the rest of the gang manage to get their outfits done? Were they going to join me on my nightly haunts? I was so used to acting alone, would I be able to work with a group?

"You're f*$%ing hot," I said out loud.

"_Oh_ for . . ." she gave an exaggerated eyeroll in my direction. "Don't you _ever_ think of anything else?"

"Honestly?"

"Never mind," she sighed.

"Can you at least tell me what color your hair is?"

"Shut up."

"I bet its blonde. Maybe platinum blonde."

"If I said yes, would you shut up?"

"Only if you were telling the truth."

She paused a moment. "Yes it is," she said sighing again.

"AHA I knew it! Can I get a picture of you in a bikini?"

"Go to h$%%."

"Eh, been there, its overrated."

"Then go back to thinking in your head instead of out loud or I'll send you on a trip there myself."

I swung my feet around so I was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Actually I was thinking abut a few things," I said. "Like, why all the sudden interest from your family? We hardly even know you all, and vice versa. H#$$, the only interaction the two of us have in school is flirt and punch, and even then its not more than a few times a week."

She frowned. "I . . . I don't know," she said. She looked from the door to the window and back to me. "To be honest, my parents have been acting rather weird for the last week too."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," she said. She looked at the bracelet on her wrist. "When Mom put this on me, she said 'Not long now, sweetie!' and then told me to tell her if I feel anything weird. She's been keeping an eye on me too. Plus, she's asked about you a lot, and I've never told her about you."

I clutched my chest. "Ouch, burn."

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh you'll live."

"Obviously," I said grinning.

She blinked. Then we both erupted into laughter. She draped over the chair giggling and I flopped back on my bed laughing. It was the kind of joke that only immortals would find so f*$%ing hilarious.

"Ahhh . . . seriously though," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "They've been creeping me out."

"Well if you didn't tell them about me, how do they know about me?" I said, sitting back up. "And what do they say? 'Lizzie, don't go anywhere near that perverted McCormick kid'?"

"On the contrary," she said. "Mom was telling me she's heard about a poor boy in school, and was encouraging me to be nice to him and maybe hang out with him so he wouldn't feel lonely."

"Lonely?" I said. "I'm one of the most popular kids in school! I hang out with lots of guys! Girls throw themselves at me!"

Lizzie shot me a withering glare that had a bit more venom than usual. "Yeah, that's what I told her," she said. "I also said I wasn't interested in joining your harem."

"We've got cookies," I said wiggling my eyebrows.

"You're incorrigible."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means you f*$%ing suck."

I grinned at her, but she did raise some interesting questions. Why were her parents suddenly interested in me? What did this have to do with Lizzie's bracelet? What the h&$$ was going on in South Park?

My grin turned into a frown. Something occurred to me. I'd been spending years now trying to find out exactly how I'd gotten my powers. The only clue I had was that my parents, at the time of my conception, had been involved in the rather obscure Cult of Cthulhu. If Lizzie had the same powers . . .

Lizzie's brow furrowed at my change of expression. "What is it?" she asked.

"Lizzie, do your parents go to any meetings at night?" I asked.

She looked puzzled. "Yes, especially recently . . . why?"

D*$%. "Uh, do they tell you about them?"

"Not really, they're just going to friends' houses. Dad sometimes mentions poker."

Double d*$%.

"Why?"

I jumped off my bed. "We're leaving," I said. I strode over to my cupboard and pulled out my Mysterion costume.

"What?" Lizzie said. "Why?"

"Trust me," I said, throwing my costume in my backpack and slinging it over my shoulders. "Whatever is gonna go down tonight, its not just gonna be dinner." I gave a heavy sigh. A full homemade turkey dinner with the works . . . but no, if I was right, even a dinner wasn't gonna make the night worth it. Not if who I was thinking of was behind this.

"But what about our parents?" Lizzie asked as I headed towards my bedroom window. "They'll be worried if we left!"

"My parents will be OK, I do this all the time," I said. "And they themselves are all right, they backed out of that cult ages ago. Its not them that the cult is after."

"Cult? After?"

I slid open the window as silently as I could. "I'll explain on the way," I said. "As for your parents, I don't have an answer to that."

"Where are we going?" she asked, looking worried now.

"To get the rest of my gang," I said. "This needs investigating." I looked at her. "You said you were with Queen B as a representative of someone?"

"Yeah, my Mom had me hang out with her," Lizzie said. "She said that Dad had some sort of business investment with her family's company or some garbage. I thought she just wanted me to kiss up to the new rich girl-"

"Wait, new rich girl?"

"Yeah, well, sorta." Lizzie scratched her head. "Apparently she's gotten some cottage up in the mountains where she's living for the time being."

I smiled slightly. "Does she now," I said, thinking. If she had gotten a cottage, that certainly meant she was setting up shop in the area. "Do you know where it is?"

"No, and after that event last week, I haven't returned any of her calls, even though Mom got mad at me for ignoring them."

My mind was racing. First Trent Boyett, then Checkmate's gang, then the Beehive, now the cult of Cthulhu . . . what on earth tied all these four together? And what brought them all here to South Park? And us? And why did all this seem triggered by the bracelets?

"Kenny?"

I blinked. Oh right, escaping. Which is what we were doing. Not just running away. I was pretty sure we were escaping something potentially bad.

"We need to find the others and tell them," I said, hopping out the window. "This is all getting rather weird, really fast." I held up my arms to catch her.

"I can get myself out, thanks," she grumbled, climbing out.

Awww. No fun.

I turned around to head down the alley when I ran right into a tall figure.

"Hello," the tall cloaked person said, when I'd stumbled back. "Going somewhere?"

I heard a noise to the side and saw more cloaked figures coming around the house. No f*%#ing way, not already!

"Kenny, what's going on?" Lizzie whispered.

My eyes narrowed. I unzipped the bag and pulled out my mask. "S*#$'s about to go down, that's what."


End file.
